Milestone Series and Welcome Home
by B and M
Summary: Sequel to Against Type. A collection of one-shots highlighting milestones in Rick and Michonne's relationship. AU. No Zombies. REPOST. Originally published April 17, 2016.


**Chapter 1: Meeting the Parents (March)**

* * *

"Can you put on-"

"-number 14?" Rick finished in conjunction with her, earning himself a sidelong glance from the beautiful woman sitting in the passenger's seat.

"Yeah."

"You know there _are_ thirteen other songs on the CD."

"Yeah, I'm well aware," she assured him as she thought over the dozens of times she'd heard this album from start to finish while riding in his truck, "but this is the only one I like."

"But it's Johnny Cash."

"You always say that," she said, shaking her head with a slight smirk, as unmoved by his standard response as ever.

 _We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout,_

 _We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out._

 _I'm goin' to Jackson, I'm gonna mess around,_

 _Yeah, I'm goin' to Jackson._

Their conversation came to a lull as the plucky guitar chords and driving beat of the song filled the car. She looked over at her boyfriend with one hand one the steering wheel and the other resting on the window sill. His lips were slightly pursed, and she couldn't tell whether he was just focused on the road or smarting over her comment.

"It's a good driving song," she offered weakly. "When you're in a truck...out in the country," she rambled until he finally turned her way with a warning look. "I'm trying here."

And he knew she truly was, bless her heart, but he was never going to convert her into a fan. Hell, if he'd been introduced to this music today, he couldn't even be sure he'd like it himself, but it was what he grew up listening to in his father's truck, so he'd never be able to judge it objectively.

"Yeah, I see that," he said, with a tender break in his voice, as he switched hands on the steering wheel and reached over to cover her knee with his right hand. She smiled back, and placed her hand on top of his, entwining her fingers with his.

"Michonne, your hands are sweaty." It was a strange occurrence for his typically cool, calm, and collected girlfriend.

Skeptical of his claim, she lifted her free right hand, palm facing upward, and folded her fingers toward the center. Sure enough, there was a slick of moisture that she hadn't even noticed.

"It's 80 degrees outside," she said with a shrug as she dropped her hand to her lap and rubbed her palm over the cotton material of her skirt to dry it.

"But it's not in here," he pointed out as he waved his hand in front of the icy output of the air conditioner. "You nervous?"

"No," she answered without pause as picked up the jewel case laying on the dashboard to busy herself. She couldn't remember how many times she'd tried to get him to load his music onto an iPod to use in his car like she did, but he always declined, and insisted on relying on these relics. She studied the cover of the CD currently playing, and smiled to herself: _Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison_. "Don't you think it's kind of ironic?"

"What?" he asked as he glanced over at her.

"That one of the sheriff's favorite albums was recorded in a prison?" She watched him shrug, and recognized that unimpressed look she'd given him just a moment ago. "I do."

"You're changing the subject on me," he said with a knowing grin and a squeeze of her knee where his hand still rested. "We don't have to do this, you know."

"We can't cancel on them twenty minutes before we're supposed to meet for lunch."

"I wouldn't, but you can," he offered. She hesitated for a moment, as she took notice of the queasy feeling in her stomach and the slick of sweat that kept coming back on her hands no matter how many times she wiped them on her skirt.

"No," she said as she began to nod her head resolutely. "No, we're doing this. I promised Carl I would go to his spring concert next week, and I don't want this," she said as motioned between the two of them, "to detract any attention from him. It's his night."

Rick took his eyes off of the road to glance at her again. Meeting the parents for the first time had such a stigma about it, but in reality, it wasn't that big of a deal; and certainly not for a couple in their mid to late thirties. Although, that was easier for him to say since she was the one meeting his parents today.

"So let's say they don't like you," he proposed casually, causing her to snap her head toward him.

"What the hell, Rick?"

"I'm playing devil's advocate here. Worst case scenario, you hate each other. So what?"

She continued staring at him, furrowing her brow in disbelief, and unsure if he really needed her to elaborate on this for him.

"It would suck," she said deliberately. "A lot," she added as she dropped her chin and the octave of her voice for emphasis. "They're your parents and your children's grandparents. They're gonna be around."

"Yeah, but my point is, it's not gonna change my feelings for you."

"But it'd be ideal if that wasn't the case."

"Do I look worried?" he asked as he looked over and flashed her a wide smile.

The answer to that question was no. In fact, he looked quite happy and relaxed as the early spring sun shone down through the window and over his shoulder, picking up the flecks of blonde and grey that ran through his brown curls, and casting a golden glow on his lightly tanned face and forearms that were the result of recent afternoons spent outside working on the house. His slightly wrinkled, untucked blue gingham shirt was as easy as his posture and demeanor. This man right here was the one that she fell for; the one she'd changed her rules for, the one she sometimes drove 150 miles round trip for during the week just to share a late dinner and a bed for the night to get them through until the weekend, and the one she'd occasionally flip to the country classics station for when she was alone in her car because they reminded her of him, though she'd never admit that to him.

Even if things went horribly today, it would still be worth it. So she tried to push aside the nervousness, and let his sunny disposition rub off on her. Today was a good day; they were sharing more of their lives with each other, and now those closest to them, and she knew in her heart, as well as he did, that it was the right for them.

She leaned forward to turn the music up just a hair, then eased back in her seat and let the back of her head rest against the cushion of the headrest. She let her face fall to the side, and caught him tapping his thumb against the steering wheel while the corner his lips curled into a smile that was contagious. She reached over and placed her left hand on his shoulder, letting her thumb tap along to the beat, as well.

 _Well now, we got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper Sprout,_

 _We've been talkin' 'bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out._

 _I'm goin' to Jackson, and that's a fact._

 _Yeah, we're goin' to Jackson, ain't never comin' back._

"You remember, you played a Johnny Cash song the first night we met?" he asked as he glanced over at her, revealing the reason behind the smile.

She smiled, as well, as she thought back to that night 4 months ago when she stood shoulder to shoulder with him at at the jukebox in a seedy bar not too far from where they were now. It was only recently, that enough time had passed that they could finally claim that night as theirs, and admit that what they have now started at that moment.

"You picked it out to try to make me look good," she reminisced as she grazed her thumb over his shoulder.

"Yeah…" he started before chuckling softly, "yeah, I did. You were obviously out of your element, and needed some help."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's all it was…"

He shrugged innocently then turned his head to his right, placing a quick kiss over the tops of her fingers where they rested on his shoulder. "I love you," he said, catching her eye, as he turned his head back toward the road.

"Love you, too."

"Everything's gonna be fine. I got your back."

xxx

She hopped out of the truck, and immediately regretted doing so as she stirred up a small cloud of white dust the minute her feet landed on the gravel parking lot. She groaned, knowing that her toes and sandals would be coated with this stuff for the rest of the day. She closed the door and looked up at the back of the two story, light pink Victorian style house that had been converted into a restaurant, best known in these parts for their creative spin on southern classics. They were facing the large back patio that was covered with mismatched wrought iron tables and chairs all painted a uniform shade of white. The perimeter was lined with a hodgepodge of planters and flower boxes that were filled with everything from African violets to begonias to petunias, in every color imaginable and all in bloom. It was a charming little place; eclectic, but obviously put together by someone with a deft hand when it came to decorating.

She walked around to the front of the truck to meet Rick, and he pointed them out before placing his hand at the small of her back, and guiding her toward their spot at the table on the far edge of the patio. From behind, she could see the couple sipping their drinks and chatting quietly as they awaited their guests.

"Mom. Dad," Rick greeted quietly as he placed a hand on each of their shoulders from behind, so as not to startle them. His best efforts failed, however, as his mother's shoulders bucked as she turned suddenly in her seat.

"Oh hi!" she said in a high voice, hitting him lightly on the arm, before beginning to laugh and draw him into a quick hug. "We were expecting you to come in from the front."

She pulled away and immediately looked around Rick to seek out Michonne as she smoothed her light yellow cardigan down over her white slacks. She was a petite, pretty woman who was in her early 60's, though her full, soft cheeks gave her a more youthful appearance. She wore simple make-up and jewelry, and kept her thick silver hair tied back in a neat bun.

"Son." Rick's father's voice boomed with bass as he threw his arm around his back, and gave it a hearty pat. "Nice of you to dress up," he said as he gave Rick's jeans and untucked shirt a once over before looking up at Michonne. "You let him wear that?"

Michonne went to open her mouth, but found no words as she was stumped by the question, seeing nothing wrong with Rick's outfit. But before she could react, Rick's father busted into a laugh, squeezing his son's shoulder before he released him.

"This is Michonne," Rick said as he stepped back toward her side and placed his arm at the small of her back again.

"Mr. and Mrs. Grimes," she started as she held out her right hand, "it's nice to meet you."

"No, we're not doing that," his mother said as she reached out for Michonne's hand and covered it with her other one, patting it affectionately. "It's Anne."

Michonne smiled graciously as she then reached over to shake his father's hand. Rick obviously got his height and lean build from his father, though, he carried a little more weight in his belly than Rick did. He was in his early 60's, as well, with thinning grey hair, but a full, neatly trimmed beard. The years of sunny Georgia summers and penchant for smiling had left him with deep wrinkles around his eyes and forehead, but his stunning blue eyes still remained the focus of his face much like his son's. He wore a crisp light green plaid shirt tucked into a pair of pressed khaki slacks, and much to her surprise, his feet were clad in a proper pair of dress shoes as opposed to his son's ever-present boots.

"Bob," he said in his thick Georgia accent as he shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Meeshawn," he said, grimacing slightly as it came out. Michonne grinned, and shook her head subtly to convey that no offense was taken.

"Michonne, honey," Anne pointed out in her noticeably faint southern accent, holding the long _O_ sound out for emphasis. "Remember?"

"Meesh…" he began, before folding and shaking his head. "Damn it. Look, I'll be honest with you from the get go. I may never get it right. It ain't for lack of knowin' or tryin', though. You feel free to mess my name up right back," he said sincerely as he lowered his head just a bit to make eye direct eye contact with her.

"But it's Bob," she replied with feigned disappointment for his benefit, since the man seemed to lead with his good natured humor.

"Then you'll need to get creative, darlin'," he said with a lopsided grin, obviously tickled by her response.

"Forty-three years, and I've never succeeded in getting him to say _things_ ," she said as she pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, much exaggerated for Michonne and Bob's benefit. "Still says-"

" _Thangs_ ," Michonne finished predictably.

"Yes," Anne exclaimed as she threw her hands up.

"Your son, too," Michonne said with a grin. She looked up to see Rick looking at her incredulously. "You do...sometimes," she whispered ruefully as she shrugged her shoulders.

"I know. I failed him," Anne agreed, earning herself a look from her son.

"Thanks," he sneered as he peeled his eyes away to look back down to at Michonne. "Mom was born in New York, and moved here when she was about Carl's age, so she never really picked up the accent," he explained.

"New York?" Michonne questioned, completely surprised by this bit of family history.

"A tiny town called Cobleskill in the middle of the state," she clarified. "My father was a professor of agricultural sciences at the local university, and we moved down here when he was offered a position as dean of Mercer's program. I never left."

"Huh," was all Michonne could manage. Either she never asked the right questions or Rick had been holding back on her.

"Sounds like you've heard as much about us as we've heard about you," Anne guessed as she observed Michonne's perplexed expression.

"Isn't that the reason we're having lunch?" Rick asked. "So we can all get to know one another?"

"Well, at least our grandchildren keep us in the loop," Anne said pointedly to Rick, her hard gaze softening as she looked toward Michonne. "Carl told us that you're a lawyer in Atlanta. And that you're very _cool,_ " she said as she changed her tone of voice to quote his exact words.

"And tall and nice and pretty," Bob added.

"Oh yes," Anne chuckled, as she held up a finger. "That was Judy's contribution. You know she can't be left out of the conversation."

"Well, it sounds like they about covered it," Rick said as he wrapped his arm around Michonne's shoulder. "You ready to hit the road?" he asked.

"Richard!" Anne exclaimed.

"No?" Rick teased as he began to smile. "You mind if we sit? Maybe get something to drink before we continue?" he asked has he drew attention to the fact that his mother seemed oblivious to the fact that they were still standing there.

"Of course not," she said sheepishly, as she and Bob turned to take their seats again while Rick and Michonne settled in on the opposite side of the table. She allowed Michonne enough time to pull her seat in, and take a sip of the water at her place setting before continuing. "I'm sorry. We're just excited to have a new member of the family, and-"

"Hold your horses there, Annie," Bob said as he leaned forward from his seat and placed his hand on his wife's shoulder, physically pulling her back from the edge of the table. "If they weren't serious about leavin' before, they just might be now," he said with a laugh as he leaned back again in his chair. She followed his lead, letting her back come in contact with the back of the chair, though she remained completely upright, stiff as a board.

"That came out wrong," she said with an uneasy smile. She took a deep breath in and out to clear the slate, then tried again. "What I meant was that Rick and the kids seem awfully fond of you, and happy to have you in their lives, so we're just pleased to finally be meeting you," she said genuinely. She tilted her head and shrugged her shoulder slightly, as if to say that she wasn't sure if she had gotten her point across this time, but this was the best she could do. Michonne smiled back, and nodded.

"I understand," she assured her. "I've been looking forward to this, too."

With that Anne exhaled, and fully eased into her chair, as Michonne sat back as well, and looked over to make eye contact with Rick. He gave he a quick wink and rested his hand along the back of her chair before flagging down the waiter to order drinks. He was right, there was nothing to worry about at all.

*The song featured in this chapter is _Jackson_ by Johnny Cash and June Carter.

* * *

 ** **Chapter 2:** Birthday (May)**

* * *

"Come on, we've gotta go!"

Michonne turned her head to acknowledge her best friend as her fingers continued typing away on her keyboard. The brief glance toward her office door revealed Andrea standing with her briefcase in hand, jacket slung over her arm, and an impatient look on her face.

"I know, I know. I'm finishing up right now," as promised she looked back at her screen to review the last sentence she'd just written.

"It's a six-fifteen on a Friday. Put it away. Nobody's going to be looking for that until Monday morning."

"OK, done," she said breathlessly, feeling the rush of running late, as she closed down her desktop then stood from her chair and gathered her belongings. She shrugged on her blazer and followed Andrea through the now desolate office to the elevator.

"I'm parked in the garage around the corner," Andrea apologized as she glanced down at their feet while waiting for the elevator, already feeling the pain of the quick dash they'd have to make around the block in their heels.

"I'll drive," Michonne offered as the elevator sounded with a ding, and the doors opened before them. "I found a spot on the street right out front this morning."

"But I don't want you to lose your spot." Andrea pressed the the "L" button and turned to join her friend against the back wall of the elevator for the twenty-two story ride down.

"I'm heading out of town after dinner anyway."

"Oh...does Rick have special birthday plans for you this weekend?" Andrea asked with a suggestive raise of her eyebrows.

"No, it's thirty-six. Not exactly a milestone."

"Still deserves a celebration. Especially since it's the first birthday he's been around for," Andrea countered with a disappointed shrug.

"We have the kids, so maybe dinner out tomorrow? I think there's a carnival at Rick's parents' church or something this weekend, so we'll probably end up there one day."

Michonne saw Andrea's nose twitch slightly at the mention of a carnival, knowing that she was trying to suppress her disapproval.

"You know what? When they have fun, I have fun. It'll be a good time."

"He couldn't come up with something better than that?" Andrea asked as the elevator bottomed out on the ground floor. They rushed out, their heels clacking rapidly across the gleaming marble floor.

"Andrea," Michonne hissed.

"Come on, Miche, you know what I mean…"

Michonne supposed she had her best interest in mind, as always, and therefore chose not to delve into that conversation any further and make for an awkward evening. They hopped into the white SUV that was expertly parallel parked in a tight space right in front of their office building, and wasted no time in setting off toward their destination.

Andrea fished her make-up bag out of her purse, and pulled down the visor, then flipped open the mirror on the back side. As she looked up to assess just how much touching up she'd need, she caught site of the car seat behind her. She'd seen it for the first time about a month ago, and figured Michonne had just forgotten to take it out after a weekend with Rick and the kids. It became apparent today, however, that this was now a permanent fixture in the back seat of her car. She smiled to herself as she unzipped the bag and reached for a small bottle of perfume, spritzing herself, then giving her friend a quick spray, as well.

"What are you doing?" Michonne coughed out as she waved her hand in front of her face to make the intense burst of fragrance dissipate.

"Touching you up since you're driving," Andrea explained as she pulled out a thin case of blotting papers, and began dabbing one over her face.

"I can take two minutes to do this when we park."

"No time." Andrea finished up on herself and pulled out a fresh paper. "We're already running late for our reservation."

"It's a six-thirty reservation. Please." Michonne flipped on her turn signal, and glanced in her rearview mirror before changing lanes. "Do you even need a reservation that early?"

"Yes," Andrea assured her as she reached over to blot her forehead much to her annoyance. "You do, and they'll only hold it for fifteen minutes." Michonne batted her hand away and exhaled loudly while she tucked an errant lock behind her ear then held her hand out to warn Andrea not to touch her again. Andrea huffed out a short laugh while she pulled out a tube of lipstick. "A few months of part-time country life and you're already out of touch," she muttered under her breath.

She swiped the glossy peach color over her lips, then held it out for her friend who glanced over suspiciously before finally plucking the tube out of her hand, waiting until the next red light to apply it to her own lips.

By six-forty, they finally pulled up to their destination, and hurried across the parking lot to the large brick warehouse on the edge of downtown that was now one of Atlanta's most popular restaurants.

"Hi," Andrea announced as she approached the hostess stand. "Sorry we're running a little late. Reservation under Andrea."

The hostess's eyes widened, and she smiled immediately before stepping away from the stand to lead them to their table. "Of course, no problem. Right this way."

Michonne glanced over at the bar which was bustling with the Friday night happy hour crowd, and noticed the distinct difference in energy as the hostess led them through the large dining area. For every occupied table, there was a vacant one, just as she'd suspected.

"Who lost touch?" she whispered to Andrea as she pointed out the empty tables. Andrea ignored her, though, as they rounded the corner into a second room.

"Suprise!"

She didn't even really register the word, so much as the loud wall of sound and people she'd unwittingly walked into. She stood still in silence for a moment, her mouth parted and her hand over her chest as she slowly began to recognize the faces of coworkers and friends in the crowd.

"Andrea," she said turning slowly as she braced her arm.

"Happy Birthday, Miche," she replied warmly as she beamed at her friend, just as happy for her as she was at pulling off the surprise.

Michonne finally smiled as she dropped her hand from Andrea's arm and started to make eye contact, acknowledging the guests closest to her. As she readied herself to walk into the buzzing room, she felt a hand at the small of her back, the sound of a familiar voice in her ear, and the warmth of his body at her side.

"Happy Birthday," he whispered, completing his greeting with a light kiss to her temple.

She turned to find the handsome face of the man she loved still lingering close to hers, so she weaved her arm around his lower back to pull him closer, and gave him a firm kiss on the lips, not caring that most of the eyes in the room were still on her. She pulled away slowly, taking a moment to appreciate the view as she did. He wore a white oxford shirt tucked into a pair of dark denim jeans; his beard was trimmed close to his face, and his hair tamed and tucked neatly behind his ears. It was, what she liked to call, his _city look_. He always seemed to pull himself together just a touch more than usual when they were in her territory.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, feeling a bit dazed again by the second surprise of the evening.

He chuckled and looked past her, making her aware that Andrea was still by her side.

"I'm here to celebrate with you."

"But what about Carl and Judith? And the carnival?"

He began to laugh again, finding it adorable that his whip-smart girlfriend was having a hard time deconstructing their ruse.

"You really think that's how we were gonna spend your birthday?" he asked as he dipped his head down to see her a bit better in the lowly lit room.

"Yeah…" she answered honestly before turning toward Andrea. "How?"

"All him," she said pointing toward Rick. "He called to float the idea by me, and I was game."

She looked down at the floor, shaking her head at herself as a smile spread slowly across her face.

"You got me. You really did," she said as she looked between her boyfriend and best friend who reached around her to give each other a congratulatory high-five.

"You called it, though," Andrea said to Rick as she pulled her hand away. "I thought I was going to have to drag her out of the office."

"Called what?" Michonne asked, bouncing her gaze over to Rick.

"You always run late on Fridays. If you tell me five, I know it's gonna be more like six."

"Because I'm trying not to work on the weekends anymore," she defended.

"I'm not complaining," he said as he placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "It's just something I've come to expect."

"And _you_ ," she said turning her attention to Andrea. "I seriously wanted to hurt you. I wasn't sure how we were going to make it through dinner."

The two began to laugh while Rick looked on, eyes wide with curiosity, feeling a bit like a third wheel to the two best friends all of a sudden.

"I could tell," Andrea admitted as she wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye. "So I just kept pushing."

"What happened?"

The ladies looked at each other, pressing their lips tight as they stifled the second wave of laughter that threatened to erupt at having to explain it to Rick.

"Mmm, I'll tell you about it later," Michonne said as she looked across the room and saw some of her coworkers motioning for her. "I should start making the rounds, I guess."

"You still need a drink, though," he said as he nudged Michonne's empty hand with his. "You go, and I'll come find you. What'll it be?"

"Um...they make this drink with gin and grapefruit. I can't remember the name, but they'll know."

"Got it. Andrea? Can I get you anything?"

"I have no idea, so I'll come with."

She watched the two walk off together, laughing and exchanging another five as they made their way to the small bar set up at the other end of the room. Part of her wished she could to go join them at the bar and stay there all night, but she put on a big smile and ventured into the roomful of people they had gathered to celebrate her.

xxx

"Stay with me."

Rick wrapped the arm slung around Michonne's shoulder just a little tighter in response to the long yawn she'd let out while walking down her hallway.

"Almost there."

"I'm here," she promised as they approached her front door. "I just wasn't prepared for a night like this. I figured I'd be sound asleep for at least a good two hours by now."

He used his free hand to dig into his front pocket to grab his key ring, and thumbed through the assorted keys until he landed on hers.

"But you had a good time, right?" he asked as he unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door, letting his arm slide from her shoulders to her lower back to guide her into the apartment ahead of him.

"Of course. Did you?" she asked glancing over her shoulder.

"Yeah."

She flipped on the lights and headed straight toward the kitchen to fix herself a glass of water while he locked up, but her attention was caught by a site so unexpected that she thought she must be seeing things.

"What is this?" she asked as she hovered over the homemade cake that sat on her kitchen counter, displayed on an antique silver stand with a glass dome covering it making it look all the more grand.

"My mom made you a birthday cake," he said with sheepishly as he stepped out of his boots in the foyer. "I tried to tell her you wouldn't want her to go to the trouble, but she insisted."

"What kind is it?"

He squinted his eyes slightly, studying the cake, as he walked into the kitchen to join her.

"Not sure, but with the white frosting, I have a hunch."

She shook her head, disbelieving of her good fortune, and let her eyes move just past the tempting treat to the piece of paper folded in half and standing upright behind it. She looked to Rick, who grinned, and nodded his chin toward the paper, confirming that it was meant for her. She picked it up, immediately recognizing the busy, colorful markings that were the signature style of their three and a half year old creator.

"They wanted me to make sure you got that," he said quietly over her shoulder as she took her time looking over every square inch of the handmade card.

There were definitely flowers, a building, the sun, and a few clouds on the front. There looked to be hearts or birds in the sky, if she had to guess. On the inside, there was a blue cake. More hearts or birds, or maybe they were balloons on second thought. The writing on the inside was completely clear, though: _Happy Birthday, Michonne! Love, Carl and_...well, almost completely clear. A large "J" with indecipherable lines followed. It was a true team effort from the Grimes children, and she could just imagine the two of them at the coffee table in Rick's living room, Carl sitting and Judith standing, as they collaborated on it. She closed the card and felt a hitch in her chest as a unexpected swell of feelings rose within her that she hadn't quite felt before. Well aware that she was being watched, she released the breath she was holding and looked up to give their father a nod of approval.

"I love it," she said before turning and stepping across the small space to her refrigerator. She moved the gym class schedule hanging at eye level, took a spare magnet from below, and posted the card front and center. "I know it's late, but I've got to try that cake tonight," she said as she walked back over to Rick. "Share a piece with me?"

He grinned, having predicted when he dropped that cake off at her place earlier that afternoon, that she wouldn't be able to resist, nor should she.

"Yeah." He patted her backside, and nudged her out of the way so that he could open the drawer she was standing in front of. "I'll get it."

Once he grabbed a fork and cake server, he closed the drawer and she promptly hopped up onto the counter, sliding into the spot next to the cake stand. She watched with rapt attention as he carefully removed the cover, and sunk the blade into the center and then again a few inches over. As he began to pull the slice out, he paused.

"Huh," he grunted, perplexed by the flash of yellow cake. "Not what I was expecting. Thought it was gonna be her red velvet cake."

Michonne leaned down a little closer to inspect the cake herself, and noticed a layer of white frosting between the layers of yellow cake that held a special ingredient that revealed the flavor.

"It's coconut," Michonne pointed out with a smile. Rick gave Michonne a questioning look. His mother had a set rotation of signature cakes she made, but he'd never known her to make a coconut cake in all of his thirty-nine years. "I mentioned my grandmother's coconut cream cake to her at Easter. She must have remembered."

He plated the slice then took a forkful and offered it to her, watching as she took the bite into her mouth, and closed her eyes as she began to chew. He brought the fork back down to the plate to get a bite for himself, but lost his train of thought when he heard her moan in a way that he'd only heard in a very specific setting for a very different reason.

"Mmmy God," she managed to mumble as she brought her fingers to her lips to cover her still full mouth.

"That good?"

She nodded as she finished swallowing and pushed his hand back toward the plate so that he could see for himself. She watched with anticipation as he took a bite of the cake, and he figured he must have made a face similar to one she'd seen him make before in that same, very different setting, because she started to giggle as she impatiently reached for the fork in his hand.

"Wow."

"Your mom is incredible," she said as she took another bite, enjoying this one just as much as the first. "You may need to get your own piece."

Just as she'd warned, she skipped his turn and went in for a third bite much to his disappointment. He turned his back, and began to walk away from her, so she swung her foot out to catch his leg, but he kept on across the kitchen.

"No, I see how it is."

"Rick," she pleaded as she watched him open the refrigerator door and reach for something in the very back before closing the door and walking back toward her.

"Really?"

She glanced at her watch which showed it was just before midnight, then eyed the brown bottle he held in his hand, one of his favorite beers from the six-pack she'd picked up for him at the grocery store earlier that week.

"Well, it _is_ your birthday...and there's cake, so it's still a party, right? And now that I can actually relax…"

He popped the cap off and took a long swig, probably expecting another smart comment, but there'd be none of that because that beer was a well-deserved ending to a week of planning, a day of running around, and an evening of small talk with a room mostly full of strangers all for her benefit.

"Hey," she said softly as she set the plate down on the counter and held her arm out to him. He walked in front of her, stepping into the space between her legs and wrapping an arm around her lower back as she looked into his eyes and ran her fingers through his hair, loosening the curls just a bit, then resting her hand at the base of his neck. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," he said as he stared back into her eyes, a sleepy grin on his face. "Happy birthday, babe."

She bent down and pressed her lips against his, something she thought of doing every time she'd caught his eye that evening, but they kept getting caught up in conversations with other people as they tried to make their way to one another. She could taste the hoppy beer on his lips and a hint of sweetness from the frosting as her tongue slipped in and out of his mouth while she deepened the kiss. She could absolutely get lost in him, but didn't want to just yet, so she began to pull away, ending their embrace with a sweet peck and sultry grin that relayed the promise of things to come later.

"I saw you talking to talking to my boss for a while…"

"Yeah." Rick chuckled knowingly then took another sip of his beer. The man's reputation preceded him given the countless stories he'd heard from Andrea and Michonne. "You know, he's a nice enough guy, but he talked my ear off about duck hunting. I think he assumed I was into hunting since I'm not from around here, but he's got the wrong guy."

"And he never bothered to ask or let you get a word in edgewise to say so?" she guessed. Rick nodded. "I am _so_ sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for. You know we can't get through the grocery store or dinner back home without being stopped for an update on some little old lady's grandchildren or cats. I'm used to it."

"I know, but still. I saw you from across the room, and I wanted to come save you, but I just couldn't get away."

"Everyone wanted their time with the birthday girl." He set his beer down, and wrapped his other arm around her lower back, pulling her a little closer to him. "I get it. Believe me, I do."

"Everyone wanted time with Rick Grimes, too," she added as she looked up at him with a playful smirk on her face which caused him to scoff. "Yes, they did," she insisted. "Word is my boyfriend is incredibly nice and charming...and hot," she added nonchalantly.

"Nobody said that."

"I swear," she giggled as she brought her hand to his face and began to trace her thumb over his slightly flushed cheeks. "I can't name names, but I heard it more than once."

He groaned and pulled his face away from her hand. Shaking his head, until the embarrassment subsided. He took another sip of beer then let out a long sigh at her still smiling, too pleased face.

"And for the record, I would have had just as good of a time spending the day with you and the kids," she said as she reclaimed her hold on him, and began to trace her hand slowly through his curls again.

He nodded thoughtfully, them hemmed for a moment before speaking.

"There's plenty of time for that. This is your weekend."

"We can still drive over tomorrow morning," she offered thinking of surprising the kids.

"No," he said gently turning down her generous offer. "We're gonna sleep in, have a lazy morning, see where it goes from there…"

His tone grew more suggestive with each item he listed, and his hands had begun to slowly creep under her shirt and up her back.

"Yeah?" she asked as she inched to the edge of the counter.

"Yeah," he breathed into the crook of her neck where he'd planted his lips and began to make his way along her collarbone, nudging the strap of her silk tank off of her shoulder with his nose seamlessly so that he could continue his trail of kisses as his hands climbed farther up her back and brought her closer, causing a quiet moan to escape her lips.

"Mmm...yeah. Sounds perfect."

* * *

 ** **Chapter 3:** Vacation [snapshots]**

* * *

She slung her weekend bag over her shoulder, and shut the car door then started to make her way toward the house. As she looked up, she saw the curtains in the front window falling back into place; she was being watched, but the watcher had already disappeared from sight. Within a few seconds, however, the front door swung open and the tiny spy was revealed.

"Michonne!" she cried out, though her slight lisp always made it sound like she was saying _Miss 'Chonne._

"Miss Judes!" she returned as she climbed up the steps.

The minute she reached the doorstep, the little girl grabbed for her hand and used all thirty-eight pounds of her body to drag Michonne inside faster.

"Hey!"

"Hey Carl."

She reached to close the door, then turned to find him laying on the couch somehow managing to read while the TV blasted _Doc McStuffins_ in the background.

"I didn't watch _Gotham_ so that we could watch it together. Can we do that tonight or tomorrow?" he called out without lifting his eyes from the page.

"Yeah."

Michonne felt the strap of her bag begin to slip as Judith yanked down on her arm, and shrugged her shoulder, managing to catch it before it fell.

"Come with me," she urged as she began to pull her towards the stairs.

"One second, Judes." She quickly looked around the living room for the missing Grimes who was usually there hanging out with the kids when she arrived on Friday evenings.

"Where's your dad?"

"Upstairs getting ready for dinner," Carl informed her. "Hey, can you tell him we want to go that Chinese restaurant you and me like? He keeps talking about Italian, but we always go there."

She felt the tug on her arm again, and gave up resisting the pull upstairs since that's apparently where she was headed anyway.

"Sure."

xxx

"We don't wear sunglasses inside, silly."

Michonne looked down at Judith sitting on the bed, smiling up at her with her oversized tortoise shell sunglasses that obscured half of her face and kept sliding off of her nose.

"Why not?"

 _Because I'd die if you ever became one of those people_ she thought to herself before reaching for the glasses and deciding to appeal to her in terms she could understand.

"Because it would be too dark, and I wouldn't want you to fall down and hurt yourself...plus I'd miss seeing your face," she added to soften the blow as she reached out to playfully pinch her chubby cheeks.

Her explanation must have resonated because there was no push back or tears, she just began digging through Michonne's bag again, pulling out each item one at a time and laying it out on the bed. Michonne smiled to herself as she stood at the foot of the bed wondering why this was so fascinating to Judith. Her King County weekend wardrobes consisted of jeans, cotton t-shirts or tanks, and the odd sundress depending on the occasion; the little girl was really missing out on all of her much more interesting clothing hanging in her closet back home. As she watched her pull out the second pair of skinny jeans, her face fell as she realized she spoke too soon, suddenly remembering the very lacy, silky unmentionables at the bottom of her bag. She lunged forward and pulled the sides of the bag shut, not wanting to have to explain the pretty objects that would no doubt catch her attention.

"But I help!"

"You do, but you know what? We're all done. You helped me pick out my outfit, see?"

She pointed at the jeans and pile of shirts thrown aside on the bed, but Judith felt her work was not done, and started to go for the bag again. Michonne swiped it out of her reach, and set it on the other side of the bed, but she could feel a fight coming on. While she knew this was the worst way to manage it, she opted for the easy way out and picked up the sunglasses then placed them back on Judith's face to distract her. It worked like a charm as the little one became distracted with adjusting the glasses on her face.

"Hey, I thought I heard my girls out here."

Rick walked out of his bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and a smile on his face as he came up beside Michonne and greeted her with a kiss on cheek before looking down at his daughter. She was clearly proud of her new accessory, smiling as she showed them off to her father.

"We wear sunglasses inside now, huh?"

"Yeah, well…" Michonne mumbled out of the side of her mouth, "just this one time."

He turned and plopped down on the edge of his bed, but no sooner did he sit down, he felt a firm push against his back letting him know his presence was not welcome.

"Daddy, no."

"No what? I'm not allowed to sit on my bed?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"No," she confirmed, causing him to look up at Michonne for an explanation.

"She always helps me _unpack_. It's our thing," she directed to him before including Judith in her address. "But we did all the unpacking we need to do, _and_ picked out an outfit for tonight, so Daddy can hang out with us."

"I see," he said under his breath before turning to his daughter with a hopeful smile. "You wanna come pick out what I'm gonna wear tonight?"

"No," she answered sullenly from behind her big glasses.

"Well all right."

He stifled a grin as he dropped his hands against his thighs and pushed himself up from the bed then walked across the room to his closet to pick out an outfit all by his lonesome.

xxx

"Rick?"

She felt him shift against her back, and tighten his arm around her waist as her voice roused him from that warm, hazy state somewhere between wake and sleep.

"Yeah?"

"Do we have a thing?"

There was a silent pause as he stayed still against her, making her think she'd lost him to sleep until she felt his breath against her neck as let out a quick, silent laugh.

"Didn't we just do it?" he asked in his hoarse, bedroom voice as he nuzzled his face into the side of her neck and threw his leg over hers, as he rolled her onto her back. "I can show you again if you don't remember."

The man was many things, but never a tease as he pushed the sheets they were wrapped up in out of the way and moved to lay on top of her, beginning to hike up her little black nightie up high thighs while peppering her neck and chest with kisses.

"Rick, no! No, no, no," she laughed as she pulled the sheets up to create a barrier, and put her hand on his chest to gently push him away. "I'm serious."

He could see that she was, so he rolled back onto his side, letting his hand rest on her belly as he rubbed his thumb over the silky back material that covered it, and studied her face for a moment while reconsidering her initial question.

"I'm not sure I follow."

"What's our thing?" she repeated. "Like Andrea and Terry love trying new restaurants. Mike and I had the art scene. You and Lori had-"

-kids," he finished, nodding his head as he caught her drift. "So what's our common interest?" He chewed on his lip while he stared blankly at the wall, trying to come up with something.

"Well, we run together when we're at your place."

"But that's my thing."

"Michonne…" His tone was one she'd heard him use with Carl and Judith before, and she knew she'd put her foot in her mouth. "I think you're the greatest, but don't act like you own the rights to that. Anyway, what does it matter if we enjoy it? I even started running a few nights a week without you. I don't know if you noticed, but…"

He had a playful smirk on his face as he pushed the sheet down a little bit and pulled her hand over to run it over his lean, toned abdomen.

"Yeah, I noticed," she laughed as she pinched his non-existent belly fat. He'd always been lean, but he'd become even more svelte over the past couple of months since he'd been tagging along on her runs.

The smile faded from his face, and he grew serious as he propped himself up a little higher on his elbow, and returned his hand to her waist.

"You unhappy?"

"No!" she replied emphatically as she covered his hand with her. "Not at all. Just thinking."

"Hmm…can I have some time to think on this, too? I'm not dismissing you, I just…"

"Of course."

He nodded and tugged at her waist, prompting her to roll back onto her side and up against him as he tightened his arm around her again, and kissed her good night.

xxx

 _Hey._

"Hey." She began tapping her pen against her desk faster as a rush of nervous energy surged in her as soon as he answered his cell phone. "Got a minute?"

 _Sure. Everything OK?_

"Yeah. Do you have a passport?"

 _Yeah._

"You do?" She perked up at hearing his answer, realizing that this may not be such a crazy idea after all.

 _Yeah. Why do you sound so surprised?_

"I'm not," she lied. "Do you speak Spanish?"

 _No._

"Good."

 _Do you?_

"No. I took French in high school."

 _OK...you wanna tell me what's going on here? You fleeing the country? Going on the lam?_

"We should go to Mexico this weekend."

 _Michonne._

"Just hear me out. We've never taken a trip together, and it's only a two and a half hour flight from Atlanta. Plus I have so many points, I don't even know what to do with them so that's taken care of," she continued as she scrolled through the flight options she'd already pulled up on her computer. "There's this little place my co-worker always stays at about an hour outside of Cancun, and she says it's amazing. Quiet, great beaches, close to the ruins, cheap food…"

 _Michonne._

"Just meet me at the airport instead of my place on Friday afternoon, and we'll get out of here this weekend. Just you and me. Somewhere that's not your territory or mine. Somewhere we can just be us, figure out what that is."

 _Babe, I don't even know if I own a bathing suit anymore._

"I'd have to go shopping before we leave anyway, so I could pick one up for you…" Her heart sunk a little at the silence coming from his end. "...Rick?"

 _Nothing too short or colorful, OK?_

"So that's a yes?"

 _And no flowers._

"No flowers," she promised coolly, as she leaned back in her chair and did a silent, very uncool little happy dance.

xxx

Michonne quietly strolled through the ancient Mayan ruins set high on a cliff that overlooked the bright blue sea, stopping occasionally to trace her fingers against a faded inscription in the rocks or to admire the views of the surrounding sand and water from various vantage points.

"I know it almost goes without saying, but it really is incredible to think of everything they were able to do without the resources we have now. Everything they built…"

"And this is one of the more modest sites," Rick reminded her as he walked up beside her, "but it did last longer than most."

She looked up at him curiously, wondering where he'd gotten this information.

"I did some reading on the plane," he confessed, "while you were passed out on my shoulder."

"I needed that nap. Don't judge."

"I'm not. But you're right. If mowin' the lawn in the summer takes it out of me, I can't imagine haulin' these rocks around all day in this heat," he said as he swiped his the back of his hand across his forehead to stop a perfectly timed bead of sweat that had threatened to roll into his eyes.

"And still after everything they accomplished, to have almost all of it collapse due disease and-"

"Actually they think it was probably due to drought now," he offered delicately, wanting to share his newly acquired knowledge without seeming like a know-it-all.

She looked up at him, grinning and shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand despite her oversized sunglasses. He'd had the same stack of books by his bedside since she'd known him, but she'd never once seen him crack one open. She'd just come to assume they were there for decoration, but now she was starting to think that given the time, he'd have read through them all and replaced them with another set of books. She made a note-to-self to try to buy him a little more time at home to start in on that stack, then took his hand and continued meandering through the grey, stone structures together.

xxx

"I am feeling this."

She nodded toward fish taco she'd set down on her plate, then picked up her margarita which was really just a glass of tequila with a squeeze of lime of a drop of agave and took a sip.

"And this and this," she said, as she playfully tapped the bridge of Rick's nose, pinkened by a day on the beach. "But that music? No."

He chuckled and turned from his spot at the outdoor bar to check out this music that was so offensive to her. Truth be told, he hadn't even noticed the two men with guitars on the other side of the courtyard because his senses were consumed with so much else: the salty smell of the nearby ocean; the taste of the freshest fish he'd ever had in his life; and the sight of his gorgeous girlfriend sitting next to him with her hair knotted back, her sunglasses on, an orange bikini top, and a floral print sarong slung around her waist. He was now convinced there wasn't a look she couldn't pull off: the beach, the farm, or the city. It didn't matter, she looked equally sexy no matter what, though, he was partial to this look since it showed off her perfect skin and curves so well.

"It's so out of tune, it actually hurts to listen to," he agreed as he turned back toward her, catching her snatch a tortilla chip from his plate since she'd already eaten all of hers.

"I could eat this everyday," she said with the longing of someone who knew that come Tuesday morning this would all be a memory, and they'd be back to life as they knew it.

"Me too." He popped a chip in his mouth and took a few crunchy bites before continuing. "We can't get stuff like this in the middle of Georgia."

"No, but we can try to get out to the coast every once in a while."

"I'd like that. We could go to St. Simon's or maybe…" He furrowed his brow as he noticed her turn away from him suddenly to face forward in her chair, looking into the bar in front of her. "What?"

He looked behind them to see that the two man band had made their way over to the bar area, their off key guitars and voices growing louder as they crooned what he gathered was a love song given the fact that the clearing in the courtyard had filled up with a few of the couples who had been quietly enjoying their late lunch around them. He smiled and laughed quietly to himself as he watched the older couple that had been at the end of the bar dancing cheek to cheek in their matching tropical shirts, sunburns, and straw hats. Sure, it was corny, but it was still sweet. They were still in love, and they clearly didn't give a damn about anyone else around them. He placed his hand on her back and leaned into her space.

"Don't judge me, but I kinda want to."

"Rick," she pleaded as he stood from his stool and wrapped his arm around hers, tugging lightly.

"We don't know any of these people, so who cares. I want to dance with my baby," he said with that charm and grin that she had trouble resisting.

He was certain she'd rolled her eyes behind her glasses, but she took one more sip of her drink, then begrudgingly stood up, and followed him a few steps over where she stepped into him, placing one arm around his shoulder and holding his hand with the other. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close, smiling down at her while he did, daring her with his eyes to act like she didn't enjoy it. She bit down on her lip to hide her smile, rested her head against his chest, and began to sway softly side to side with him as she focused on the beating of his heart instead of their awful background music. As the moment went on, she found herself relaxing into him while her nuzzled his scruffy chin against her forehead.

"See," he whispered into her skin, "it's not so bad."

"No, not at all."

xxx

"Oh my God, Rick...Oh my God…"

As his thrusts grew harder and more urgent, her breaths became more shallow as he drove her closer and closer to the edge. She was barely there, but aware enough in her hazy state that she was on the verge of waking the entire inn if he kept at it like this, so she buried her face into his shoulder and slid her hands from his ass up to his back. As the urge built within her she opened her mouth, letting only her breath escape as she dug her fingers into his him.

"Ow ow ow, Michonne, wait! Wait a minute," he breathed out as he pulled away from her. "Damn it," he whispered as he pushed himself up on his hands while he hovered over her.

She opened her tightly clenched eyes, feeling completely disoriented by the abrupt stop in action, but she could see he was wincing in pain as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"What is it?"

"My back."

The look on his face, and his clipped words, now had her worried that something was seriously wrong. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, and they delicately untangled themselves so that she could scoot over to his side and take a look at his back for herself. Even in the dark room, it wasn't hard to see stark contrast between the practically glowing, white skin of his buttocks and the bright, pink skin on his back.

"Oh my God," she whispered as she gently traced two fingers over his back as she covered her mouth in horror with the other. "Baby…"

"Is it that bad?" he asked as she sat back on her heels next to him.

"You're burnt."

"I don't get it," he said shaking his head. "I put on sunscreen at least twice today, and I normally tan."

He held out his arms in front of him as proof: white and a little less white from his forearms down in a typical farmer's tan distribution. She tilted her head and gave a small sympathetic pout. It wasn't what she'd classify as tan, but she could see how he might.

"Yeah...I don't know, baby."

She hopped out of bed, walked over to her suitcase and rifled through it before she produced a bottle. She shook it and squeezed a generous amount into her palm before walking over to their dresser. His eyes followed her around the room, and he watched curiously as she removed their bottle of wine from the ice bucket and replaced it with the bottle of aloe. She walked back over to the bed and nudged his back as she climbed up on her knees.

"Lie down."

He stretched out onto his belly, and crossed his arms in front of him, letting his head rest on his hands. She climbed atop him, straddling his lower back with her bent legs, then began to work the aloe into his sunburnt back as gently as possible.

"That feels so good."

"It'll feel better when it's cold, but this will do for now."

"Thank you...Sorry I ruined the moment."

"It's OK. Things happen. We'll find a way make up for it."

xxx

The sun was setting on their last night of vacation, and they were spending their final hours in a hammock hung between two palm trees on the edge of the property they were staying at, watching the sky become awash with pastels as the sun appeared to slowly sink into the sea. Rick laid on his back with one arm folded behind his head, and the other providing a pillow for Michonne who was on her side, wedged between his body and the side of the hammock. They shared a comfortable silence; tired, but content after a long day in the sun and with their bellies still full from their last supper.

"You know, I've been thinking about what you said last weekend…"

She shifted next to him, and tilted her head to look up at him. Last weekend practically felt like last year, and her worries seemed so silly now.

"Funny thing is, I really couldn't come up with anything. We don't make a whole lot of sense when you look at it that way."

"Rick, I-"

"No, but we've always know that, right? We've got two very different lives."

"We do," she agreed as she kept her eyes on his face as he looked up at the sky above him while sharing his thoughts.

"But you and I have both been through it. And because of that, we have a little more insight now than we did before. A little more grey hair and wrinkles, too," he teased as he finally tilted his head toward her and gave her a quick squeeze with the arm that was wrapped around her. "Well, I do, anyway. You look at least a good ten years younger than me," he added with a grin as she swatted at his chest with her free hand.

"Whatever."

His smile faded and his expression turned more serious as he adjusted his body and turned to his side so that he could look her straight in the eyes.

"Thing is, though...this is good, Michonne. It's really good, and I hope you feel the same way."

"I do," she assured him quickly before sighing and closing her eyes briefly as she tried to figure out how to explain what she'd been thinking. "I just got inside my head, I think. Looking at everyone we know, and thinking we were missing something. And I know that we're not, because all of the things that actually matter are so right, but I just...I wanted to make sure that we were doing everything we could...I don't want to fuck this up."

She shrugged, unsure if what she'd said even made sense, but he was already nodding before she had even finished.

"So we keep talking, supporting each other, loving each other…" He reached out and put his hand on her cheek, letting his thumb run back and forth over the contour of her cheek, as he began to laugh quietly. "And if you think we need to take up woodworking or bowling, I'm in."

"I don't," she said as she started to laugh. She reached up and put her hand over his, gently clasping it and moving it down to the space between them.

"Thank God," he said with a huge sigh of relief. They grew quiet again as they laid there looking at each other. "I think we're doing just fine, baby."

"Me too."

He nodded, pleased with their discussion, but he paused for a moment feeling that there had to be something else. But there wasn't because things were that easy with them and they were just that right for each other. So he lifted her hand to his mouth and gave it a gentle kiss, then rolled onto his back, and collected her back into his arms again as they cast their eyes upward to look at the stars in the night sky, quietly savoring the last of their alone time.

* * *

 ** **Chapter 4:** Moving In (August)**

* * *

"Hold still, sweetheart."

Rick gripped his antsy daugher by one arm, as he crouched down to her level, aiming for the bright red stain on her blue and white striped shirt with a damp paper towel, but having trouble hitting his moving target.

"Your mom's not gonna be happy with me," he mumbled under his breath, questioning the wisdom of make-your-own-pizza night. "OK, that's as good as it gets."

As soon as he released his hold on her arm, she bolted across the kitchen to join Carl and Michonne at the sink where they were finishing up the dishes. She climbed up the small step stool sitting by the counter, putting her head just above Michonne's waist, and let her presence be known by tugging on the thin leather belt laced through the loops of her jeans.

"I heard she was really strict," Carl carried on as he rinsed off a baking sheet. "She swats at your knuckles with a ruler if you get a question wrong in class."

"I don't think that happens anymore," she assured him as she simultaneously wrapped her arm around Judith's shoulder to acknowledge her presence and took the pan from him then placed it in the dish rack, never missing a beat.

"That's what I heard."

"From whom?"

"Patrick's neighbor's older brother."

"I see."

She watched as he turned off the faucet and shook his hands a few times over the sink before wiping them on the front of his jeans to finish drying them. She shook her head at his choice given that she was standing there with a dish towel in hand, then turned and leaned against the counter, looking across the kitchen to catch Rick's eye.

"Didn't you say she was a new teacher?"

"Miss Carter?" he asked, looking up from table where he'd used the damp paper towel already in hand to wipe off the crumbs from their early dinner. "Yeah, it's her first year teaching. She just graduated from UGA."

"I think somebody's telling you tales, my friend," she said as she looked down at him, but he'd already begun shaking his head.

"I don't know."

Of course, the hard facts presented by two adults wouldn't stand up to the chatter amongst his friends, she thought to herself.

"Then I suggest you finish your summer reading tonight," she said as she nudged his side with her elbow. "I know you still have a few more chapters left."

"Everyone knows they never test you on the first day of school," he scoffed.

"You sure you want to take that chance with Miss Carter?"

She raised her hand in front of him, and lowered it quickly as if she was a black-belt breaking through a stack of boards, making a _whap_ sound as she did much to his chagrin and Judith's delight. He begrudgingly rolled his eyes, while his kid sister began to mimic Michonne's movement, swinging her hand through the air and making her own _whap_ sound between giggles. Michonne smiled at her little shadow then glanced up on the clock at the wall, and sighed. Sunday evening always came too fast.

"OK," she said as gave Judith one last squeeze before she let her arm slip off of her shoulders. "It's that time again. I need to go pack my things."

At the mention of the word _go_ , Judith tightened her arms around Michonne's waist, and began to whimper quietly.

"But you just got here," Carl protested.

"Two days ago. I'll be back," she promised as Judith's whimpering began to grow louder and her embrace grew tighter.

"Yeah, in two weeks."

Michonne paused, and lifted her eyes to meet Rick's as he approached the group, his fatherly sixth sense apparently alerting him to the fact that she was going to require reinforcements.

"You're going to be so busy with school, you won't even notice," she said as she returned her attention to him, and tried to put a positive slant on the situation. "And then when I come back, you can tell me all about 8th grade and Pre-K," she added for Judith's benefit.

"It's not even dark yet," he said motioning to the nearest window where the summer sun was still bright as ever. "Can't you just stay until my mom picks us up?"

"Carl," Rick interjected with a stern look, though he couldn't blame his son for trying.

"I've got an important meeting tomorrow morning, so I really need to get home early so that I can get a good night's sleep," she explained, as much for his benefit as hers since her resolve to leave had been slipping in recent weeks. "Just like you two need to for the first day of school."

"Fine."

No sooner had one battle been won, the next one was just beginning as Judith erupted into a crying jag so loud and intense that it caused Michonne flinched as the sound pierced her eardrums.

"No!" She buried her head into the side of Michonne's thigh and clung tighter, resolved not to let her father remove her.

"Come on," he said gently, trying to coax her away without upsetting her further.

"But I don't want you to go," she sobbed into Michonne's thigh.

Her little back heaved up and down with each breath, and Michonne began to feel the dampness of her tears as they soaked through her jeans. She rubbed her hand up and down over the little girl's back trying to soothe her while her own heart was beginning to break. There was always a some sort of protest when she said her goodbyes, but never anything like this. She looked up at Rick with a mixture of guilt and confusion over his daughter's inconsolable state.

"She's three," he said with a shrug, his way of explaining that it was nothing personal.

"I am not!" she shrieked as she lifted her head long enough to irrationally rage at his accurate statement and bat his hand away as he reached for her.

"Hey, hey, hey," Michonne cooed as she called Rick off with a wave of her hand, and bent down to Judith's level. She put her hands on her cheeks, and gently smoothed her thumbs under her eyes to wipe the tears away. Judith took a breath, and the tears stopped falling, but she wore a frown despite the gentle smile Michonne was giving her. "You know what? I could use some help packing. Can you do that?"

"Yes." The simple response came out as a choppy series of sounds, stuttering as she caught her breath while she calmed down.

"Oh thank goodness," Michonne said brightly, again trying to put a positive spin in the situation, as she popped up to a standing position and reached out for Judith's hand. "Let's go."

She grasped Michonne's hand and followed her out of the kitchen. She was calm, but unenthused about this task, as she walked a half step behind causing Michonne to keep looking back for her. Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut after they disappeared into the hallway; grateful for the return to peace…for now. He could hear their staggered footsteps, one set heavier than the other, as they moved up the stairs while Michonne had a one-sided conversation about the animals they'd seen at the farmer's market earlier that day.

"This really sucks."

Rick turned to find that his son had wisely relocated during the commotion, and was now seated at the table with his dog-eared copy of _The Outsiders_ in hand.

"You know your mom doesn't like you using that word."

"Sorry, but it does."

He set the book down on the table, and folded his hands on top of it. Rick's eyes were drawn to the worn library book, one he'd remember reading around Carl's age, and his lips curled into a smile at the memory.

"I remember how much I used to hate the last day of summer," he said with a small laugh. "Your Grandma Anne used to get so mad at me because they'd try to make us go to sleep early after a summer of no bedtimes, and I just couldn't sleep. I'd be up every ten minutes to get a glass of water or go to the bathroom."

"I know what you mean," he said, now smiling as he pictured his dad in his shoes, "but that's not what I was talking about."

Rick's smile faded some, and he tilted his head. "What's botherin' you then?"

"Us leaving. Michonne leaving."

"Ah, yeah." He nodded as he ran his hand over his scruff, on the longer side after a weekend without shaving, and let out a frustrated sigh. "That does suck."

Instead of continuing the conversation, he walked over to the fridge and opened the top door of the freezer then pulled out a box of ice cream sandwiches. Carl watched as he turned the box and peeked into the open end, then looked up at him with a strange expression on his face.

"Only two left." His eyes flicked upstairs quickly before he returned his focus to his son. "I won't tell if you don't."

Carl wrinkled his nose, unable to believe his good fortune of getting pizza and ice cream sandwiches in the same night, and to not have to share on top of that. He glanced upstairs, as well, almost feeling as though this was a trap, then decided to act on it because opportunities like this did not present themselves often.

"I won't tell."

Rick walked across the kitchen, and pulled out the chair across from him, took one sandwich out of the box and slid it across the table, then took the last one for himself. He watched Carl tear the wrapper in no time and rush to get the first bite as if someone was going to steal it from him.

"So all the back and forth is getting to you, huh?"

"Sometimes," he admitted as he swallowed the bite in his mouth. "I get used to being at mom's then we move over here, and I get used to that." Rick took a bite of his dessert and watched as Carl gestured back and forth with his free hand, barely stopping to take a breath as he spoke. "Then Michonne comes, and we have fun, then she's gone again, and it's back to mom's and we do it all over again and…it's just hard."

Rick nodded as he chewed; he understood because just listening to Carl explain it was exhausting. This was their not-so-new anymore routine; this is what life looked like now, and it was pretty damn good, but it wasn't the life he'd known for his first eleven years and it wasn't by his choice, and that was never too far from Rick's mind.

"I know it's tough. If I could change this for you and your sister, I would, but–"

"But this is how it's gonna be until we move out."

"'Fraid so."

Carl nodded, seeming none too broken up about it as he took another bite of the ice cream sandwich in his hand, that was now sticky with the run off from the melting sides since he'd discarded his wrapper entirely unlike his father who kept peeling the wrapper down little by little as he ate.

"How long are you and Michonne gonna do this?" he asked casually before proceeding to lick the melting sides. When he didn't get an answer, he looked up to find his father staring at him with his head tilted an a curious look on his face. "Go back and forth," he clarified. "Is it always going to be like this?"

"That's a…" Rick stumbled over his words as he crumpled the now empty wrapper in his hand. "That's a good question. I honestly don't know."

Carl squinted his eyes at him, and Rick braced himself for the anticipated follow-up questions. All of which would take some delicate maneuvering on his part to answer as honestly as possible and as respectfully as possible to all parties involved. The rumble of hurried footsteps descending the stairs provided a welcome interruption, however, as they both turned to see Judith barreling toward them with a new and improved attitude.

"All done!" she announced as she climbed into her father's lap, much happier to see him than she was just a few minutes ago.

Michonne walked into the kitchen behind her, and set her weekend bag on the floor then walked over to the table.

"All done," she echoed with much less exuberance as her eyes landed on the box positioned between Rick and Carl. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing," Carl swore, though the brown crumbs caked in the corners of his mouth said otherwise.

"I _know_ you two didn't have dessert without us." She leaned over and picked up the box that had no weight to it. "Really? You couldn't even bother to discard the evidence?" She gave Rick a hard stare, then tossed the box at Carl. "That's OK…"

They all watched as she turned and sauntered over to her bags, then bent down to dig something out of her purse. She walked back with the brown paper bag, slowly opening it knowing that she had their full attention, then pulled out a chocolate chip cookie.

"Who keeps cookies in their purse?" Carl questioned.

"I bought them at the farmer's market today. I was gonna save them for my lunch tomorrow…but I'm not sure I want to anymore," she teased as she broke the cookie in two. "Halfsies, Judes?"

"Yes, please."

The little girl was practically crawling out of her father's lap and onto the table to reach her half of the cookie as fast as possible. Michonne eyed her father as she took a bite of the cookie and shook her head.

"Mmm. So good," Michonne said as she turned to toward Carl.

"That's not fair."

"Yeah, it is, son," Rick corrected as he pointed to the empty box sitting in front of them.

"Yeah, it is," she repeated. "But lucky for you, we share."

She broke her half in two again, and gave him the unbitten piece. He hesitated, but she winked and extended her hand towards him once more until he took it.

"Yeah, we share!"

Following Michonne's lead, Judith turned and pressed the end of her cookie into her father's closed lips, causing him to chuckle before opening up to take a bite.

xxx

"Shit…Michonne."

Rick placed his hand on her thigh, giving it a quick squeeze before rubbing it, hoping to rouse her with his touch since his voice alone didn't.

"Michonne," he repeated, raising his voice a notch.

She jerked slightly then went still for a moment as she opened her eyes and slowly began to lift her head from where it rested on his shoulder.

"Hmm?"

"We fell asleep."

"Shit." She bolted upright and grabbed for his left arm, feeling for his watch with her fingers then bringing it close to her face. She blinked several times as she tried to clear the sleep from her eyes, but couldn't see the face in his pitch black living room. "What time is it?"

He pulled his wrist in front of his face, and squinted to make out the time, then let out a frustrated sigh.

"Little after midnight."

"Shit."

She dropped her elbows onto the tops of her thighs, then leaned forward and plopped her forehead into her palms as she cursed again under her breath, tired and frustrated with herself.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." She kept her head in her hands, but turned her face to look back at him. "I should have left after dinner like I said I would. I suck at leaving."

After dessert, she'd decided to stay another hour until Lori picked up the kids, then she'd decided to stay just one more hour to enjoy some downtime with Rick which inevitably led to an hour or so of adult activities followed by what was meant to be a twenty minute power nap that landed them in their current predicament.

"Well, you can't leave now."

"No."

She lifted her head from her hands and fell back into the couch, letting out a long breath as her shoulders slumped and her eyes closed with her mouth coming to rest in a small frown. She looked completely deflated, and Rick noticed as he watched her from his spot just beside her. She'd hit her limit, _they'd_ hit their limit and they were now at an impasse in their relationship.

"This back and forth is gonna run us both into the ground." He spoke softly, but surely as he tapped the outside of her thigh with the back of his index finger to catch her attention. "We can't keep it up forever."

"No." She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly toward him. "It's hard to believe we've gone this long without really talking about it."

He bit his lip, and nodded his head, sensing the that same self-consciousness in her voice that he had been feeling around this topic. It had been almost nine months, and despite their very clear commitment to being together for the long haul, they had never talked about what that would actually look like.

"I guess I've been avoiding it because I know we don't have any good options," he confessed. "If it weren't for Carl and Judith, I'd move to Atlanta. No questions asked. I'm still willing to once they're older."

"In fifteen or so years when Judes graduates from high school?" Michonne asked rhetorically, knowing that despite their best efforts, they would be no more at that point. He just shrugged, having already reached this conclusion on his own, and went on to the next option.

"And I thought about us finding a place halfway between here and Atlanta…"

"And then neither of us are where we want to be, and everyone's life is more difficult than it is now," she finished.

"Like I said, no good options."

He looked down and away from her as he shifted his focus to his hands, clasped and resting in his laps. She watched as he began to fiddle his thumbs while the silence began to feel heavy and uncomfortable which was so rare between them. He couldn't come to her, and neither wanted to meet halfway, but there was a final option he had stopped short of exploring.

"Is me moving out here not an option?" she asked, her voice tentative.

He looked up immediately, seeing the uncertainty on her face, and feeling awful he'd given her that impression.

"Of course it is," he assured her as he reached to make contact with her, his hand landing on her forearm since it was the closest to his reach. "I've just never wanted to put that pressure on you. You've got your place, your job, your entire life back in Atlanta."

"Not my entire life," she pointed out. And he knew that, because the inverse was true for him.

"You can't make that commute everyday, and you can't do what you do here. You'd be stuck doing wills and divorces or representing small time criminals."

It was clear that he'd given this quite a bit of thought, but so had she. She took a deep breath, and shifted her body so that she was fully facing him.

"I've come to the point in my career where I have some decisions to make," she started slowly. "Either stay where I am and keep going down the partner track or leave and take a cushy in-house position with one of my clients…" She paused for a moment, and readied herself, because saying this next part out loud made it feel real which was still a scary thought for her. "…Or I go out on my own. I've got the experience, a good reputation, and enough contacts that I could conceivably make it work."

He was quiet, and his expression even, not giving her any indication one way or another what he was thinking while he mulled over her plan. Waiting for his response would have made her anxious if not for the steady, light pressure if his thumb sweeping back and forth over her arm, putting her at ease and letting her know that he was still with her.

"And what would that mean?"

"That I could work from anywhere. I'd probably have to travel about a week or so out of the month, but otherwise I'd just need a little office space."

"I didn't know this was something you wanted."

"I didn't either."

He looked down into the space between them, and tilted his head to one side. He'd grown quiet and pensive, stopping to give each response great thought before opening his mouth.

"Would you do it if I wasn't in the picture?"

"Honestly?" She saw him give a slight nod to her question as looked back up at her. "No. I've never considered another way, because I've never needed to. There's never been a reason to make any changes…until now."

His thumb continued to graze her arm as he let out a short breath and shook his head, his worries apparently not quelled by her answer.

"I can't help feeling like you're the making all the sacrifices here. What if you end up hating it out here? I don't want you to wake up in a few years, miserable and resenting me for it."

"I might," she said truthfully as she put her hand on top of his and stilled it. "Anything's possible, right? Or it might be the best thing I ever did in my life." She grinned and leaned forward, making sure that he was really listening to what she had to say. "I love you, and this is the only way we can keep growing together. That feels right to me."

He began to smile for the first time during their conversation, "So this is it, huh?"

"This is it," she said as she began to laugh, amused by his understated response. She allowed herself to give into the rush of excitement and relief that always came after a big decision like this. They'd chosen their path, and the future wasn't just some lofty idea, it was actually beginning to take shape. Still, the adult in her felt the need to temper their excitement slightly with a dose of reality. "It won't happen overnight. It's definitely going to take some time to put everything in place, but that gives us time to ease into it."

"I'm not…" he trailed off as he began to chuckle. "I'm not worried about that. I'm ready."

He patted her arm twice then removed his hand and scooted a few inches over to the end of the sofa. She watched as he leaned over the arm of the sofa and reached under the side table, given no choice but to enjoy the view of the muscles in his back undulating under his white undershirt as he dug around for something.

"What are you doing?" she finally asked.

He didn't answer, he just grunted once or twice as he shifted around, probably out of breath from the arm of the sofa digging into his diaphragm. Within a few seconds, though, he resurfaced with a magazine folded in half in his left hand, looking quite proud of himself despite the fact that his face was flush from being upside down and the curls that framed his face had fallen into his eyes.

"Come 'ere," he said motioning toward his side of the couch with a tilt of his head.

He stretched out his right arm, and she slid herself right up against him. She lifted her hand to his forehead, smoothing his hair back into place, then leaving a kiss on his cheek before she nestled into the space just under his arm and laid her head against his chest. Once she settled in, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her even closer to his body leaving no space at all between them. Her eyes focused on the folded magazine in his hand, but all she could see was the detergent ad on the back cover.

"So I saw this a few weeks ago when I was in line at the grocery store. Made me think of you."

He released his fingers from around the magazine, allowing it to flop open across their laps revealing the front cover of a design magazine, the name of which she'd recognized from grocery store check-out lines and the wall of magazines at airport shops. Her eyes traveled down the page from the title to the image below. The focal point was a gleaming white, modern marble island set in the middle of an older home with its original hardwood floors and wood beams. There was an antique hutch in the corner, much like the one in Rick's kitchen, and a gracious old dining table similar to his, as well. She traced her fingers over the picture, and looked up at him with a sweet smile.

"It's like they took my tiny little kitchen and dropped it into yours. It's beautiful."

"Yep." He was quite pleased with himself for picking up on this all on his own, and even more pleased that she actually seemed to like it. "This place needs some work, but I think we could make it our own. And if that's not what you want, there are plenty of other houses out here, that new subdivision they're building on the other side of town…"

She tapped his hand with hers to interrupt him, then looked up with a guilty grin.

"I have a confession to make…I've been obsessed with this design show where a couple redoes older houses lately. I caught it once when I was flipping through the channels, and I've been watching it ever since."

He craned his neck to see her better, and arched an eyebrow at her very telling confession.

"Oh, so you'd already made up your mind? When were you gonna let me in on this?" he teased.

"When it came up…it's not like I could just come right out and tell you I was moving into your house."

"You could've," he admitted. "You know this is your home, too. You're not a guest, haven't been for a long time. Hell, probably ever…marchin' in here the first night demanding whiskey and a fire," he said with a laugh as he nodded toward the fireplace in that very room and thought of the first night they'd spent talking then making love in front of it.

She smiled at the memory, as well, just one of the many they'd made already in this house. She placed her hand on his opposite cheek, and gently turned his face towards hers so that she could place a kiss on his lips. It started sweetly enough, but instead of pulling away, she found herself climbing onto his lap without ever breaking contact with his lips. She straddled his thighs and placed her hands on his cheeks as she gave him one final deep kiss before pulling away, both beaming at each other. He wrapped his hands around her waist, and his fingers found the back pockets of her jeans, like they usually did, and slid into their favorite place.

"So tell me more about these plans of yours."

"Well, I have big plans for the master bedroom."

"So do I," he answered, playfully acting surprised by the coincidence, though by the way his fingers kept trying to make their way deeper into her pockets, she knew they weren't talking about the same thing.

"I really do," she said seriously. He nodded, then squinted his eyes and pursed his lips, trying to show he was equally serious. "I'm talking creating a walk-in closet because that little hole in the wall you call a closet won't do, double vanity in the bathroom, getting rid of the carpet because I know it's just covering up some hardwood floors…" she trailed off as he began to look confused, squinting his eyes harder. "What?"

"Mmm." He began shaking his head. "I can't quite picture it."

"Really?" She was quite surprised because this was just basic stuff, she wasn't even talking paint colors, finishes, and decorating yet which is where she expected to lose him.

"You're gonna have to show me," he said with a shrug as the corners of his mouth started to turn upward.

"Oh…" She rolled her eyes at herself for almost falling for his little act. "Cute. Real cute."

"Michonne, I'm serious. You come show me where you want that closet, and I'll start knocking down walls tomorrow."

His mouth said one thing while his hands said another as she felt them slide out of her pockets, and down under her rear where he tightened his grip. She instinctively grabbed onto his shoulders as she felt his legs start to move because she knew what was coming next.

"Rick, no!" She hugged him tighter and wrapped her legs around him as he stood from the couch, afraid he was going to drop her even though he had a strong hold on her. "I have to get up in a few hours to make it back for my meeting," she practically whined as he began to climb up the stairs.

"Then we'll just go to sleep. Gotta head to the same place anyway."

She knew what she should do, but she'd already failed at sticking to her plans so many times tonight, and her boyfriend was looking so hot and saying all the right things, so what was one more bad decision to celebrate the one very good and important decision they'd made.

"Fuck it."

"Yeah?" he asked excitedly as they cleared the door of his room, leaving it wide open since they were alone in the house again.

"Yeah."

He laid her down on his bed, and wasted no time crawling on top of her, diving into his favorite starting point. His lips settled into the hollow just above her collarbone, then moved upward, lapping up the skin along the curve of her neck. Once he reached her cheek, he pulled back and paused for a moment. His face hovered over hers as he thoughtfully gazed at her with a goofy little grin on his face and adoration in his eyes.

"What?"

"I didn't think you would actually go for this. I'm gonna miss my long-distance girlfriend. She's always surprising me."

"Mmm hmm." She brought her hands up from her sides and under his arms that were placed on either side of her, propping him up above her. She placed her palms on his shoulders, gently sliding them down to his chest as a naughty little smirk developed on her lips. "You shouldn't count your live-in girlfriend out yet."

"No?"

"No," her voice went low and she dragged the words out as she shook her head at his underestimation. "You'll see," she warned as she slid her hands up to his neck and pulled him back in action.

* * *

 ** **Chapter 5:** Christmas (December 25)**

* * *

All of the presents had made it from their hiding spot under the bed to their final destination under the tree, however, five minutes after the fact, Michonne was still kneeling in front of the tree arranging them just so. The gifts, wrapped with three different, but coordinating papers, were carefully placed so that no two like patterns were next to each other. Then they were deliberately staged according to height and size, yet came off looking effortlessly perfect in the way they were stacked and leaning upon each other.

"It's fine. Trust me, it won't stay that way for long."

She didn't turn at the sound of his voice, she just continued to put the finishing touches on her display. He chuckled as he stood back and watched her, not surprised in the least by her eye for detail given the fact that he'd spent the past few months renovating their home with her. He still recognized the old farmhouse that had been passed down through his family, but her touches were everywhere from the new furniture mixed in with the old, to her art that now hung in every room, both pieces she'd had before and new additions to the collection since the wall space in his house compared to her apartment provided her with much more room to play with.

She finally finished up then stood and took a few steps backwards to survey her work. In the otherwise dark room, her pajama clad silhouette was framed by the lights from the tree before her; and he was certain that the visual before him was more perfect than the one she was taking in. He walked up behind her and slid his hands around her waist, and she knowingly tilted her head slightly to the left to make room for his chin to rest on her shoulder.

"You remember what you were doing this time last year?"

"I do…" She began to smile as she covered his hands with hers where they rested on her belly then turned her face slightly towards his. "I was just about to fall asleep on an air mattress on the floor of my nephew's room when this damn cop I'd been trying to forget texted me. You?"

"I was laying on my ex-wife's couch thinking about some lady from the city that I wasn't supposed to be thinking about."

"I'd say we're both better off this year." She could feel his breath on her cheek as he began to laugh quietly.

"I'd say so," he agreed as he pulled her snuggly against him and pressed a kiss on her cheek. "Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas."

She lifted her hand up, and reached behind her to blindly place it on his cheek, stroking it gently as she continued to admire all that they had now.

xxx

"He came!"

As if her very poor attempt at a whisper wasn't enough to wake them, the mattress dipping and bouncing with each step she took from the foot of the bed to the head certainly was. Their noisy little visitor collapsed onto her knees in the space between them causing one final jolt that assured they were wide awake now.

"Who came?" Michonne asked through a yawn as she rolled onto her side to face the little girl who was dressed in her red and green Christmas pajamas with her hair gathered into a bun on the top of her head, little golden curls escaping around her forehead.

"Santa! He got my letter!"

Rick rubbed his eyes, stinging from lack of sleep, and rolled from his back onto his side to face his daughter and girlfriend. He looked just past Michonne to the window behind her, no signs of sunrise on the horizon, then to the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was 4:25 AM, a new record for early Christmas morning wake-up calls.

"Are you sure? It's still dark out," he teased as he pointed toward the window.

"Yes, because he brought the presents here instead of mommy's house," she explained quite seriously since there had been much concern over how Santa would know that she would be at a different house this year. "I'll show you!"

She popped up to her feet again, and held her hand out toward Rick, but he grabbed onto it and pulled her back down.

"That's all right. I believe you," he promised.

"I think he got me a coloring board," she said as she turned her attention to Michonne. It was what she called easels, something they had at her preschool that she loved using during free time.

"What makes you say that?"

"'Cause I asked for one, and there's a big, big present under the tree."

Michonne glanced at Rick who was already looking at her with an arched brow. That present was the base for all of the others stacked upon it, and the only way to know just how big it was, was to move it, ruining her picture perfect arrangement, just like he'd predicted.

"Maybe," Michonne said evasively as she glanced back at Judith. "Or maybe it's for your brother or me."

Judith considered that thought for less than a second before she rose to her feet again, and began to turn.

"I'm gonna tell Carl."

"Nope." Rick snagged her hand, and pulled her back towards him. She fell down onto her rear, and he quickly scooped her into his arms, securing her in a tight hug against his chest. "Let's not wake him up, too."

"But I want to open presents now!"

She giggled as she tried to worm her way out of his arms, kicking her feet as he hugged her tighter and tickled the little sliver of belly that was peeking out from under the edge of her pajama top.

"But we need to wait for your mom," he countered playfully in the same whiny voice she'd just used. "She won't be here for another two hours. It's too early, sweetheart."

She went limp in his arms, and a frown developed on her face as she realized that her father meant business. She raised her sad eyes to see Michonne watching the two of them, and thought she may have another shot.

"Pleeeeeease," she pleaded as she looked up at her. Michonne just put her hand on her knee, and gave it a small squeeze.

"Soon, Judes. Very soon."

There were certainly worse things than waiting to open your Christmas gifts, but Michonne understood her disappointment. She looked up at Rick and he shook his head at her, softie that she was when it came to his kids, then gave her a smile while he released his arm from around his daughter and lifted the covers between them.

"Come here," he said as he nodded towards the headboard. "Come hang out with us."

She crawled around his arm and slipped into the space between the blanket and the bed, putting her head down where Rick and Michonne's pillows overlapped slightly in the middle. He dropped the blanket and scooted in closer while Michonne cozied up to her from the other side. He then laid his arm across her, with his hand settling on Michonne's side, and closed his eyes.

The room had gone quiet, but Judith was only for a subdued for a moment; she had no real intentions of going back to sleep as they'd hoped. She turned her head, and smiled at Michonne, tickled to be snuggled between two of her favorite people in their big bed.

"Can we sing a Christmas song?" she whispered to Michonne.

"Sure. What do you want to sing?" she whispered back, trying to keep her heavy eyelids from closing.

"Um… _Rudolph_."

"OK, you start."

Judith turned her head towards her father to make she he was game, but was disappointed to find him snoring lightly on the pillow beside her. She placed her little palm on his cheek and began to tap lightly with her open hand.

"Daddy, you have to open your eyes."

"OK," he mumbled, eyes still closed, as he took her hand from his cheek, giving it a quick smooch, before placing it back at her side and going still again.

"Michonne, tell him he has to."

She had just started to drift off in the few seconds she was without Judith's focus, but the sound of her name caused her eyes to pop back open.

"Rick."

"OK, OK…" he murmured, his eyes opening to just a narrow slit. "We're signing _Frosty_?" he asked through his daze.

"Daddy, nooo!"

Exasperated, she brought her hands to her face and covered her eyes. Her father was hopeless.

xxx

Rick did a lap through the living room, now empty save for the abandoned gifts and torn wrapping paper that littered the floor, taking a moment to straighten up. He pushed the gifts back under the tree and gathered the discarded giftwrap in his hands, wadding it into one large ball as he did. Once he'd cleared enough space to walk around the living room without tripping, he headed into the kitchen to throw away the trash and grab his third round of coffee.

As he walked into the room, he found Michonne's father sitting alone at the dining table. His grey tweed sport coat was hung over the back of the chair, the sleeves of his dark blue button down were rolled up, and his gold wire frame glasses had slid to the tip of his nose as he hunched over the partially completed Lego replica of the Millennium Falcon.

"I should have warned you. My son is notorious for up and leaving," Rick said as he came to a stop at the table, breaking Lewis's concentration as he sorted through the tiny plastic pieces of Carl's Christmas gift.

"Oh, I'm used to it," he said with a knowing grin as he straightened up in his chair. "My son used to do the same thing to me."

"I'm sorry he and his family couldn't make it out to join us this year."

"Next year," he said with a nod. "That's just how it goes when everyone has their own families. It's a blessing that we all have so many places to be and loved ones to be with over the holidays."

He was a tall man with a broad chest and deep voice, reserved and often with a serious countenance, but despite the intimidating exterior, Rick had always found him to be quite warm with a quiet humor.

"It certainly is," he agreed wholeheartedly as he looked around the kitchen surprised to find that they were alone. "Where did everyone go, by the way?"

"They're all upstairs. Michonne is giving them the grand tour."

"You didn't want to join them?" Rick asked as he walked around the kitchen island and deposited the wrapping paper in the trash before heading for the coffee maker.

"I'll be sure to get a tour later on." Lewis picked up a piece of the tiny, pronged plastic and studied it as he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger then let out a quiet chuckle. "Truth be told, this was always one of my favorite parts of Christmas. A quiet moment with my coffee, putting together one of the kids' toys after breakfast…before it all begins again with lunch," he admitted as he looked up at Rick. "These are long days."

"Yes, they are," he said with a sigh as he sat down in the chair across from him. "My littlest one woke us up a little after four this morning." He took a sip of coffee and shook his head. "I tried to warn Michonne, but I don't think she believed me."

Lewis smiled, and took a sip of his coffee before returning his attention to the project before him. Rick reached for the instructions, and gave them a quick once over so that he could pick up his son's slack. The two fathers worked across from each other, comfortably silent, as they made considerable progress in just a few minutes worth of work.

"Carl tells me he wants to be an architect…" Lewis said without lifting his eyes from the model.

"Is that right?" That was news to Rick as he'd never heard him say that before. "Well, he does get his highest grades in math and science, so I could see that."

"My son used to say the same thing. Got my hopes up that he'd follow in my footsteps, but he went another direction," he mused.

Rick had still yet to meet Michonne's older brother, an oncologist who lived in Birmingham with his wife and two children, but now that things had settled down after the move, they'd hoped to meet up with the kids in Atlanta some weekend in the near future.

"You know, your daughter may be a lawyer, but I can tell she definitely picked some things up form you."

Lewis put down the piece he was working on, and looked up at Rick with a grin. "Is that right?"

"It is. Let's just say, I've never heard of a renovation project finishing ahead of schedule and coming in at the initial quote when it was all said and done. She knows her stuff, and she didn't let those contractors get away with anything."

Lewis's grin grew into a proud smile that he only let last for a second before he reined it in, and returned to his even expression as he took a sip of coffee and went back to his morning project.

xxx

"Hey, where's mom?"

Rick and Lewis, now conveniently re-joined by Carl as they were down the final touches on the flight deck, looked up at Michonne as she walked into the kitchen. Her father's eyebrow arched just above the frame of his glasses as he questioned her abrupt greeting. Thirty-six years old, and he was still giving her the business.

"She insisted on helping me with dinner, and now she's not here," Michonne explained.

"Last I saw, she was heading upstairs with Judith," Rick offered. "You want me to go get her?"

"No, no. You guys finish up. I've got it."

Michonne turned and left the kitchen, passing Lori and Rick's mother chatting on the couch as she headed up the stairs. She figured between her mother's and Judith's outgoing personalities, they'd give their whereabouts away easily, but it was quiet as she reached the second floor. She headed straight to Judith's room where the door was ajar, and as she pushed it open, she found Grandpa Bob sitting still as could be in one of the tiny chairs from Judith's play set. When she pushed the door wider, she saw Judith drawing away at her new easel while her mother stood over her shoulder watching.

"What are we doing here?" Michonne asked just barely above a whisper, so as not to disrupt their quiet moment.

"Drawing Grandpa!" Judith announced excitedly, her concentration easily broken by the entrance of their new guest.

"She had me put it together for her, then made me sit for her first portrait," he said with a grin, careful not to move a muscle.

"Your back's gotta be killing you sitting like that," she said, marveling at his good humor, despite being hunched over in that tiny chair for who knows how long.

"A little, but it still beats the heck out of the makeover I got last Christmas."

Michonne walked over to join her mother behind Judith, folding her arms across her chest as she took a sneak peek at the masterpiece in progress. She looked at the drawing, then up at Bob in his white shirt and khaki pants, then back at the man on the paper wearing a red shirt and purple pants.

"Oh, you're getting a makeover this year, too" she said as she bit back her smile at Judith's flair for color.

Her mother elbowed her in her side, then spoke up in Judith's defense. "I think it's wonderful," she said as she smoothed her hand over the top of Judith's head. "She's taking liberties that really capture his spirit, who he is to her and how she sees him. Not such a literal interpretation…"

Michonne nodded; having an English professor for a mother, she was used to the romanticizing and her inability to turn off her analytical mind when put in front of a work of art be it a poem, a painting, or a four year old's drawings.

"I'll do you next," Judith offered as she turned and tapped her hand on Michonne's leg.

"I would love that, Judes, but I have to start cooking or else we'll be eating candy canes for dinner. Another time?"

"OK. You next?" she asked of Helene as she patted her leg.

"I would be honored, Miss Judith, but I promised Michonne I would help make dinner."

"OK," she said with disappointment as she returned to her drawing.

"Does that mean you're almost finished?" Bob asked hopefully from his spot on the chair.

"No, Grandpa, stay still," she warned with a point of her finger.

Michonne looked at her mother and grinned, then began to walk toward the door.

"There's aspirin under the sink in the guest bathroom, Bob," she added on her way out as she motioned toward his back.

"Thanks, darlin'," he said with a wink that got him scolded by the artiste once more.

Michonne waited for her mother in the hall then began to walk down the stairs once she joined her.

"Oh, that little girl is something else!"

"Isn't she?" Michonne agreed, still grinning at her creative interpretation of Grandpa Bob.

"Cute as a button, and a sweet little thing. Sharp, too, but oh my goodness, she likes to run the show."

"I know. That's kind of what I love about her," Michonne admitted.

"Of course you do. That was you, Michonne."

"No," she scoffed, shaking her head.

"Yes, my love," Helene insisted with a laugh as she reached for her daughter's arm as they came to the bottom of the stairs. "You always wanted to be in charge. At home, at school, in dance class, on the basketball court…you were a handful, but I never had to worry about you."

She'd always been a bit of a perfectionist and gravitated toward leadership roles, but to hear her mother say it, young Michonne sounded downright overbearing and unpleasant to be around, and virtually unrecognizable to her current self.

"Well, I guess I've mellowed with age then."

"No," Helene contended with a knowing grin. "That's still you, you just go about it in a different way these days."

Michonne shook her head and began to laugh at her mother's curious statement. Even if she wanted to explore that thought further, now was hardly the time or place.

"Can we just get started on dinner already? There's a five pound bag of sweet potatoes waiting for you in there."

"Yes, ma'am."

Michonne just looked at her mother with the cheeky grin on her face and groaned, then grabbed her hand and pulled her along into the kitchen.

xxx

"You don't have to do that!"

Lori looked up from the pan she was scrubbing to see Michonne standing at the entrance with one hand on her hip and a stack of dirty dishes in the other. She shook her head, ignored her, and went back to work.

"Because you listen when I say the same thing at my house…"

"That's different," Michonne argued as she placed the dishes on the counter next to Lori and began to scrape the scraps into the trash with a dirty butter knife.

"Not really," she said with a grin.

"Thank you, then."

"No problem."

The two women went quiet. The sound of running water and the knife clinking and scraping against plates filled the silence as the worked side by side. Both sets of parents had left, and the kids were upstairs with Rick getting their things together in order to go home with Lori for the week. There was a peace and stillness that hadn't existed downstairs since early that morning before the holiday festivities had started.

Michonne finished with the last plate and placed it on the stack, then looked up to catch Lori swiping at her eye with the back of her wrist as soapy water dripped from her fingertips back into the sink.

"You OK?"

"Yeah," she sniffed as she dropped her hands to rest on the edge of the counter and shook her head to clear her long brown hair away from her face without touching it. She looked down at her hands, sniffing in through her nose again, before she looked up at Michonne who was watching her with concern. Her cheeks began to twitch in that tell tale way that she knew she was about to cry despite her best efforts not to. She smiled as her eyes began to well, then when she couldn't hold it in anymore, she broke, self-consciously laughing at herself as she did. "I'm sorry."

Michonne reached for a dry dish towel, and handed it to her as she put her other hand on Lori's back, watching as she dabbed at her eyes.

"What's going on?" Michonne asked as she continued to rub her back while she collected herself.

Lori took a few deep breaths, and rolled her eyes at her emotional state, then tried to smile at Michonne. They had always been cordial with one another, friendly even, but their conversations were never very personal, usually just revolving around the kids or logistics. Lori balled the damp dish towel into her fist and placed it on the counter.

"When we decided to go through with the divorce, this was the day I had been dreading," she let out a breath and looked down to the floor for a moment. "And I know it's silly because it's just one day out of all the others, but the thought of my kids waking up without me, and me without them, for the first time on Christmas morning…it just broke my heart."

Michonne nodded sympathetically as she continued to rub Lori's back, feeling almost guilty that she'd shared that moment with her children this year, despite the fact she knew that this was a decision Rick and Lori made together long before she came into his life.

"So thank you," Lori continued, "for making the best out of this situation. You and Rick made this as easy as possible for the kids and me, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate that."

"There wasn't anything to think about," Michonne assured her as she dropped her hand from her back now that she'd calmed down. "You're their mother," she said with simplicity. "Carl and Judith are…"

"I've got a gift for you," Rick announced quietly as he walked into the kitchen with his daughter sacked out in his arms, one leg on each side of his waist and an arm slung over each of his shoulders with her head resting on his chest. "One bathed, sleeping, PJ-wearing daughter ready to go," he said to Lori as he continued walking toward them, his satisfied smile fading as he looked at the two woman standing closely, realizing he was in walking in on the middle of something. "Everything OK?"

"Yeah," Lori said quickly with a tight smile.

"Yeah," Michonne confirmed.

"Carl will be down in a minute, he's just gathering the last of his things. If you need a few minutes, I can…" Rick nodded elsewhere as he trailed off.

"I was just gonna help Michonne finish up here," Lori started.

"No, you go," Michonne insisted as she placed her hand over Lori's and looked her in the eye. "Take advantage of this. I've got it."

Lori nodded and squeezed Michonne's fingers where they laid over hers, then let go and handed her the dish towel, giving her another smile before she walked over to join Rick. As they turned to head into the living room, Carl came bounding down the stairs with his duffel bag. He looked to his left and saw his mother, father, and sister about to head out the door, then to his right to see Michonne standing in the kitchen. He made a detour into the kitchen, smiling as he approached her.

"Today was awesome."

 _"Very_ awesome," she laughed, crinkling her nose at her questionable choice of words, as she opened her arms for a goodbye hug.

"Thank you for everything, _Santa_ ," he teased for the final time, as he'd been keeping up the charade all day for his sister's sake.

"Shhh." Michonne hushed him as she brought a finger over her lips. "You be good this week."

"I will," he promised. "See you next week."

"Yep," she said as she ruffled his thick brown hair, her hand dropping as he began to walk away.

"Love you!" he called out over his shoulder.

"Love you, too," she said with a smile as she watched him join his parents and sister at the door and head off.

xxx

Rick sat at the foot of his bed, too tired to stand as he began to undress for the night. He yawned, and ran one hand over his face as the fingers of the other nimbly undid the buttons running down the front of his shirt. He shrugged one arm out at a time, then balled the dirty shirt in his hands, and reared his arm back to throw it to the side instead of walking all of ten feet to the hamper, until he looked up to see Michonne trudging into their room and thought better of it.

"Go ahead."

"What?" he asked as he brought his hand with the shirt back into his lap.

"Just do it. I won't judge tonight," she said as she came to a stop in front of him. She yawned and ran both hands over her face before they landed on her hips, helping to keep her fatigued body upright. "I'm so tired, I don't even think I have it in me to make it to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth."

"That's pretty tired for you," he said teased knowing how important dental hygiene was to her.

"Yeah. You warned me…" Her eyes traveled from his face down to his bare chest, and she smiled at his partially undressed state as he was faring at least a little better than she was. "I don't even want to change, I just want to sleep."

He tossed his shirt on the floor then reached out and tugged on the hem of her untucked red blouse. He pulled her towards him, then slipped his hand around her waist once she was within his reach and brought her down to sit on the top of his left thigh with her legs dangling between his.

"I can help you with at least one of those things," he offered quietly as he tugged on the hem of her shirt again.

His hand traveled up her back, sweeping her locks to one side as he gently unclasped the tiny hook and eye in the back of her blouse, the same one he'd closed for her that morning as they were getting ready. The slack from the release allowed her blouse to slip off of her shoulder, and he slid his hand over her bare skin, beginning to knead it lightly. Her eyes drifted shut and she leaned into his touch.

"Mmm, I won't even make it to the bed now. I'm might just fall asleep right here."

Rick smiled, and kept going, knowing that he could manage if she did.

"So after this crazy day, you still think you're better off than last year?"

She laughed quietly to herself, eyes still closed, as she brought her head to rest on his shoulder.

"Even more than I realized…"

* * *

 ** **Chapter 6: Commitment****

* * *

"I don't know…"

Michonne grinned as the young man across from her licked his lips and twirled a bamboo skewer of grilled chicken in his fingers, contemplating it and the strange taste left in his mouth from the bite he'd just taken.

"I don't hate it...but it's like eating chicken with peanut butter."

"That's basically what chicken satay is," she said as she happily munched on hers. "What about the spring rolls?"

"They're good," he said with forced positivity as he looked at her expectant face. "...But I think I like egg rolls better."

She brought her hand to her chest and clutched it, exaggeratedly heartbroken by her usually adventurous dining companion's disapproval of her choice. She'd snuck away from work for a bit to pick Carl up from school since there was an early dismissal, and they were using the two hours before it was time to pick Judith up from pre-school to go out for lunch. At her suggestion, they decided to forego their favorite Chinese restaurant to try a Thai restaurant in a strip mall the next county over that she'd heard about.

"Well, you tried it, and I appreciate that. We can hit Chik-Fil-A on the way home if you're still hungry," she said with a laugh as she switched out her uneaten spring roll for the rest of his chicken.

"It's not that bad, it's just not my fav-"

"Carl? Carl Grimes?"

They looked up from their discussion to find a middle-aged woman with a short brown bob, matching purple crocheted snow cap and scarf, and an off-white coat that she was buttoning up as she stopped at their table on her way out the door.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, though it sounded almost like a question.

"Oh my goodness, just look at you! You've gotta be almost as tall as your dad by now! How are you?"

"I'm doing well, thank you." He glanced at Michonne then back at the familiar woman that he couldn't quite place. "How are you?"

"Oh just fine! The same. Tom's still working for the highway patrol out here, and the twins are graduating from high school in the spring. How are your mom and dad? I miss seeing them. It's shameful the way we fell out of touch after the move."

There was a flash of recognition in his eyes, as he was finally able to place their old neighbor that he hadn't seen since he was at least six or seven.

"They're doing well," he answered with a smile, looking more at ease, but nowhere near his talkative self.

The woman looked from Carl to the person opposite him for the first time since she'd approached their table, then back at him as confusion and curiosity began to set it in on her face.

"Oh, this is Michonne," he explained, though quite stilted. "She's with...um, she lives with us."

"Oh," she chirped as the crease in her forehead grew deeper. "Well, I'm Bethany. My husband used to be on the force with Carl's dad, and we used to live just down the block from The Grimeses."

"It's nice to meet you," she returned simply with a polite smile, sneaking a look at Carl as she did.

"Well, I should get going now, but please tell your parents I said hello," she said as she patted his shoulder. "We'd love to get together, have you all out for dinner sometime. OK?"

"OK," he said with a wave as she hurried off before lowering his head and placing his focus the plate of food before him as if he actually liked it.

"I'm pretty sure she thinks I live with you and your parents," Michonne quipped after watching him for a few seconds.

"I didn't know what to say," he said with a shrug. "I never really know what to call you to other people."

"You don't have to call me anything. Just use my name." He looked up at her, unimpressed with her solution, as he started to pick at his lunch. "Or...you can just call me your dad's girlfriend if you need to. I guess that works, too."

It was title that felt far too juvenile and trite for what she had with his father, but she couldn't ask a thirteen year old boy to go around using far less appealing monikers like _lover_ or _significant other_ that even she was too embarrassed to use.

"I don't even think she knew my parents aren't together anymore," he added, "so there was that, too."

"You know what? You did just fine," she said as she picked up her iced tea. "I think Miss Bethany learned all she needs to know."

* * *

Michonne pushed aside the files she'd been working on all day, and gathered them into a neat stack as she tidied her desk. It was nearing five-thirty, so she decided to call it a night so that she could have dinner ready at a decent hour since they had the kids this week. As she stood and pushed her chair back, the phone in her office began to ring. She recognized the number as one of her oldest clients and dearest friends from law school, so she answered it instead of letting it go to voicemail.

"Hey!" she said brightly as she picked up the phone. "There is no quitting time anymore. I've always got time for you, what's up?...I don't do many of those, but I know a few people in Atlanta I can refer you to...Oh…" Her heart dropped, and she sunk back into her desk chair as she listened to her friend on the other line. "...I'm, I'm so sorry to hear that, Brad...I have a meeting in the city on Monday, so I can meet with you and Alison after that...I see...right. Of course. I can do that…"

She looked up to see that Rick, in full uniform, had stopped by her office upon coming home from work, and was standing in the doorway waiting to catch her eye. She frowned and held up a finger to ask him to wait for just a minute.

"I'm sorry, can I put you on hold for just a second?"

She muted the phone, but still covered the mouthpiece with her hand as she brought it down from her ear.

"Hey," she said quietly, finally able to greet him. "I'm sorry, but something came up. I'm going to have to work tonight."

"Everything OK?" he asked, concerned by the look on her face and the need to work late which was a rare occurrence.

"Yeah," she answered automatically before answering truthfully. "...No. I'll tell you later."

"OK." He nodded, though he was even more concerned. "I'll keep the kids out of your hair. Can I bring you something to eat?"

"No, I'm all right."

She started to bring the phone back up to her ear as she watched him grab the doorknob and turn to shut the door to give her privacy. She hated that drab brown uniform, but the man that inhabited it was another story.

"Hey," she called out after him. He stopped in his tracks and turned to give her a questioning look, suspecting she'd decided to take him up on his offer of dinner. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He grinned, pleasantly surprised by the reason, then shut the door behind him and went off to find the kids.

* * *

MIchonne quietly opened the door to their bedroom, surprised to find the lights on and Rick still awake at 1:00 AM on a weeknight. He was lying on his back, one arm folded under his head while the other was hooked over the top edge of the book, holding it over his face. As soon as he heard her, he lowered the book and slid his body up a bit to see her.

"Why are you still awake?" she asked softly as she shut the door behind her.

"Couldn't sleep. You finish up with your work?"

"Almost."

He watched her walk across the room and disappear into the bathroom for a few minutes. When she emerged, she was dressed in her light grey flannel pajamas and ready for bed. She turned off the lights then slipped under the covers and found her way to his side of the bed where she cozied up to him and laid her head on his chest. He closed his book and set it on the nightstand, then turned off his bedside lamp.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked as he wrapped his arm around her.

"Not tonight."

She didn't want to talk about how she'd spent her evening preparing a will for a couple she'd known since law school who were too young to be facing the beginning of the end of their time together. Or how her heart literally ached in her chest as she reduced the life they'd built together and everything thing they had down to lists on a piece of paper. Or how she couldn't stop thinking about how devastated she would be if she was in their shoes. She wrapped her arm just a little tighter around Rick's waist as she quietly laid there listening to his heartbeat.

"Have you ever thought about getting married again?" she asked quietly. Her head rose with his chest as he took a deep breath in and released it.

"Not really," he answered after a brief moment to consider her question. "When I got married, I thought it was a necessity at the time. You love someone, you get married. That's just what you do. But after many years and a divorce, I don't see it that way anymore."

Michonne felt her heart sink. She was surprised not by his answer, but by her own disappointment when she heard it.

"I'm not against it," he continued, "but I don't need it. To you, though?" He pulled her in closer, and gave her arm a squeeze. "Yeah, I think about it. Despite everything, I can't help feeling that pull with you."

She smiled to herself upon hearing him say those words. She had been feeling that pull too; for herself and for the children, and it felt as though the world was trying to giver her a push today. If their relationship had taught her anything at all, it was that people and things change. They changed, and to this point, it had always been for the better.

"You ever think about getting married?" he asked, feeling a little insecure by the lull in conversation after baring his soul.

"I always hated the idea that you had to have a big ceremony and a ring in order to legitimize your relationship, so I ruled it out on principle. It was like my own little act of rebellion to be the last hold out of friends." She smiled inwardly at her youthful obstinence and sighed. "But things change...I still don't think you have to get married, but it's not wrong if you want to."

"No, it's not at all."

He brought his hand up to the back of her head, and began to stroke it tenderly. He never imagined this was a possibility for them; having a baby together seemed more likely than walking down the aisle one day. He'd tried and failed at marriage already, and she seemed too sophisticated for such a traditional union, so he was fine with it and with what they had.

"Michonne?"

"Yeah?" She turned her head and rested her chin on his chest to look at him.

"You sayin' wanna marry me?"

The left corner of his mouth tugged upward with his hopeful inference which caused her to begin to grin, as well.

"Yeah." She looked down shyly after her admission then back up at him. "But only if it's what you want, too."

"Yeah," he answered with certainty as he gazed into her eyes. "It is."

Their smiles gave way to quiet laughter over the surprising step they had taken in the early morning hours of an unremarkable week day. Happiness quickly turned into desire to be close, and she leaned in to press her lips to his. Of the hundreds of kisses they had shared, this one somehow felt sweeter than the rest. The feel of his lips on hers and they way they so seamlessly moved together felt as exhilarating as the first time, and while part of her never wanted to stop, she found herself breaking contact time to time to look at him and take in this moment, and she found him doing the same.

After gazing in his eyes for just a moment, she leaned back in to resume their kiss, but the hand he had resting on her cheek gave gentle resistance to prolong their break.

"This has to be one of the most unromantic proposals ever." He was smiling, but there was a hint of insecurity behind his comment.

"No," she said quickly as she tenderly cupped his cheek with her hand. "It feels right for us. It's perfect."

"What are we going to tell everyone? Namely the kids when they ask?" She dropped her head and let out a soft laugh. He had come so far, but he was still traditional at heart.

"That it was just a simple proposal at home," she suggested as she continued to brush his scruffy cheek with her thumb. "We can keep this to ourselves for a while, you know. No need to rush out and make a big announcement."

* * *

The temperature outside was below freezing, but the bright sun shining down through the window and the steady flow of warm air coming from the vent had Carl nodding of in the passenger seat of his father's truck as he watched the endless stretch of empty fields that ran along the highway.

His head bobbed down with sleep and his eyes flew open at the sudden drop, just in time to see them pass the street sign the signaled the left hand turn they usually made.

"Dad, you missed the turn to go home," he said as he straightened up in his seat.

"Yeah, I did," Rick said as he continued driving, eyes straight ahead on the road. "We're not going home just yet."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he answered with a small grin.

Carl groaned and leaned his head against the window again causing Rick to bite down on his lower lip before his son could see him. He glanced up in the rear view mirror to catch Judith obliviously singing some made up song to herself as she looked out the window; that was daddy's little girl, just going with the flow.

A few miles down the road, the fields started to become sparsely populated by houses and small businesses. Rick flicked on his turn signal, and Carl perked up at the sound, then furrowed his brow when he saw the sign for Dairy Freeze.

"We're getting ice cream? Now? We haven't even eaten dinner yet."

"Daddy, we're not supposed to do that," Judith chimed in from the back seat.

"Well, you can't do it everyday," he explained over his shoulder once he pulled into a parking spot, "but it's OK every once in awhile."

"Why today?" Carl asked skeptically. It was February 5. Too early for Valentine's Day, and there weren't any good report cards or birthdays to celebrate.

"You are two little sticks in the mud, you know that?" Rick said side-eyeing Carl as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "I wanted to have a little family meeting, so I figured we could do it here."

Carl sat still in his seat for a moment as he watched his father get out of the car and walk around back to get Judith out of her car seat. His father's strange behavior was causing his spidey sense to go into overdrive as his mind raced through reasons for a family meeting, most of which were not good. He hopped out of the car and came up right behind his father, impatiently peering over his shoulder.

"Shouldn't Michonne be here then?"

"Well, it's about her," Rick answered as he turned with Judith on his hip and shut the door, "so no."

"Dad…"

Carl's face fell as he thought of the last family meeting they'd had where he learned about his parents getting separated after an afternoon of pizza and bowling. Rick picked up on his justified concern, and placed his hand on his upper back to give it a reassuring squeeze.

"It's not like that," he promised as he gently pushed him to start walking. "Let's just go inside and get some ice cream. I'll explain everything."

After ordering their pre-dinner treats in the empty restaurant, they took a seat in one of the booths by the window that overlooked the parking lot. Rick set his sundae down on the table, and turned his attention to Judith to get her settled in before she should make a mess with her chocolate dipped cone.

"So what's going on?" Carl asked from across the table.

"God bless, Carl," Rick muttered under his breath with a laugh as he maneuvered through Judith's arms to tuck a napkin in the collar of her shirt as she dug into her cone.

Once successful, he lifted a spoonful of ice cream to his mouth while his son watched him, anxiously drumming his fingers on the table as his ice cream sat untouched in front of him.

"Can you believe we've known Michonne for over a year now?" Rick asked, his mood light as a feather much to Carl's annoyance.

"That's a long time," Carl replied in monotone.

"It is and it isn't, but we sure do like her a lot, right?" he asked as he grinned down at his daughter.

"Yeah..." Carl may as well have said _duh_ given his tone.

"I..." Judith rose to her knees on the bench and tugged on her father's sleeve with her sticky fingers to keep his attention. "I love her."

"Me too," Rick said with a smile. "We love her a lot actually. Like she's part of the family."

"Yeah…" A light bulb went off in Carl's head right about the same time he had run out of patience with his father. "Are you two getting married?" he blurted out.

"That's what I'd like."

"So she'd be your wife?"

"Yeah..." Rick answered hesitantly, unsure how he was supposed to answer.

"And she'd be our stepmom?"

"Yeah, I guess she would be..."

"When are you gonna ask her?"

Carl's pressured speech caused Judith to start bouncing on her knees with excitement even though she wasn't completely clear on what was going on.

"Well, that's what I need your help with. We need to come up with something special. Surprise her." He hooked his arm around his daughter's waist and pulled her into his lap then directed his next question to his little loud mouth. "Can you keep this between the three of us?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide and earnest as she shook her head. Once he secured Judith's silence, Rick looked up and arched an eyebrow at his son.

"Yeah," Carl promised, his scowl now replaced with a goofy grin.

"OK." Rick nodded, pleased to have their support just as he'd expected. "So what are some things she likes?"

"Ice cream," Carl said smartly as he finally began to eat his.

"So you think we should just bring her here to do the deed?" Rick teased right back.

Carl looked up at his father and gave him a shrug. He hadn't even ever asked a girl out in his life, but he knew that a proposal at an ice cream shop probably wasn't up to par.

Judith reached up and tapped at her father's face to get his attention so she could add her two cents. "Coloring...doing make-up…"

"True," Rick allowed, stifling a grin at the thought of turning either into a proposal.

"The beach?" Carl offered. Rick's head popped up at the suggestion. "She talked about it a lot after you came back from vacation."

"I think you might be onto something, son."

* * *

"Hurry, Michonne, we're gonna miss it!" Judith cried out through the open sliding glass door of their hotel room.

No sooner had they walked in the door from dinner, Carl headed straight for their balcony with his little sister tagging along naturally.

Michonne looked up to give Carl the eye for getting Judith riled up when they were supposed to be winding down for the evening, but she stopped herself at the sight of the brother and sister taking in the ocean view together. It reminded of her of the way they used to spend hours standing at the window of her Atlanta apartment scoping out the skyline or watching a thunderstorm roll in. She pulled out her phone and snapped a quick shot of them, smiling as she sent the image to Rick, knowing he would appreciate it too.

"We're not gonna miss it," she assured them as she tossed her phone on the bed and went back to digging through their their suitcases to find the sweater she'd packed for Judith. "Your dad will be right back. He just had to grab the leftovers _somebody_ left in the back seat of the car."

"Sorry," Carl apologized as he walked back into the room followed by his little sister. "It's already starting, though," he pointed out. "We should just go. He'll know where to find us."

"You two ever hear of island time?" Michonne teased as she bent down to help Judith into her little yellow cardigan one arm at a time. "You need to relax. We're on vacation."

Carl resisted rolling his eyes then looked out toward the sun that seemed to have dropped even lower towards the water in the minute he'd turned away. Michonne glanced outside, and understood the reason for his impatience.

"OK, let's go," she said as she stood up. "Grab your hoodie, it's getting chilly out."

She grabbed her shawl from the bed to ward off the chill that came with the early March evenings, and ushered the kids out the door then hurried them down three flights of stairs instead of waiting on the elevator. Once they reached the bottom floor, she took Judith's hand in hers as they climbed up the few steps of the wooden walkway that led to the beach.

As soon as they reached the landing, she spotted Rick already standing down the shore with his back to the water. He was still dressed in the jeans and black t-shirt he'd worn to dinner, and as soon as he saw them, his mouth formed into a wide smile. Michonne's eyes went to the ground beside him where there was a blanket spread out with a cooler in the middle, and then to the kids who were looking between each other and her as they tried to maintain their poker faces.

"What is this?"

Judith began to giggle which earned her a warning stare from her brother. To her credit, she stayed mum, and began to tug on Michonne's hand.

"Come on!"

She tried to run to hurry them along, but her little feet just kicked up the soft sand as she sank with each step, so Carl picked her up and hoisted her onto his back for the rest of their walk.

Michonne kept her eyes on Rick, squinting as she tried to figure out what was up the closer they got. He gave nothing away, and quietly reached out for her hand once she was close enough.

"I thought we were just going to watch the sunset then go back up to the room."

"We are watching the sunset," he said as he pulled her down to the blanket along with him.

They sat side by side, facing the water and setting sun, while Carl and Judith took a seat in front of them with their backs to the water. Neither could contain their smiles as they watched her instead of the sunset. She absolutely knew something was up, and when she turned to look at Rick she found him facing her.

"Michonne," he started as he reached for her right hand.

Although they were already engaged, she felt a hitch in her chest once she realized what was happening. She nodded, as she felt tears beginning to form in her eyes. It wasn't the surprise of the proposal, but rather the love and adoration radiating off of their faces that made her so emotional in that moment.

"I... _we_ love you and we wanted to find a way to show you how much we do."

He reached into the front pocket and pulled out a ring that he positioned at the tip of Michonne's ring finger. She grinned as she wiped a tear from her eye and gave him a small nod; she understood what this was. They already had their moment; this was for Carl and Judith, so that they could have a say in the change to their family and a special memory to go with it. He took a quick glance at Carl and Judith and nodded. Carl was smiling proudly and Judith was on her knees with her hands clasped together in giddy anticipation of pulling off their surprise.

"We want you to be a part of this family," he said as he looked back at her. "Michonne, will you marry me?"

She closed her eyes tightly and nodded as a smile erupted on her lips. She opened her eyes and looked him in the eye then to give her simple answer. "Yes."

He smiled and slid the ring over her knuckle, then pulled her into a hug. Judith began to clap because that's all she knew to do when she was excited. Carl put his hands over hers, though, to still them so as not to ruin the moment.

Michonne began to giggle as she caught them out of the corner of her eye. She pulled back and gave Rick a peck on the lips, then opened her arms to Judith.

"It's OK. Come here."

Judith walked into her arms and have her a hug then squeezed herself in between her and her father, and sat down cross-legged.

"Were you two on on this?" Michonne asked.

"No," Carl insisted while Judith confessed with a resounding _yes_.

"It was so hard. I wanted to tell you every day, but they made me promise not to," Judith said as she took Michonne's right hand in hers to inspect the ring.

It was an emerald cut diamond mounted on a delicate white gold band. Michonne took a moment to take her first glimpse at the engagement ring she was now wearing. It was simple, but beautiful with a hint of patina that made her suspect it was a family piece.

"Well, I'm glad you didn't. This was the best surprise I have ever gotten."

Michonne pressed a kiss to the top of Judith's head as she continued to toy with the shiny ring on her finger, then she lifted herself up a bit to reach over and give Carl a hug.

"Thank you," she whispered as she pulled away.

His cheeks flushed slightly at the unnecessary gratitude as he grinned and pulled away from her.

"There is one more surprise," he said as he opened the cooler. Michonne tilted her head at him, unsure if she could handle another surprise. "Dad thought you'd want to celebrate with this," he said turning his nose at the bottle of champagne in his hand. "But I said you'd rather celebrate with this," he said confidently as he pulled out pint of Jeni's Salty Caramel ice cream which he knew for a fact was her favorite.

She grinned and began to chuckle at how well both of her Grimes boys knew her. She simply could not decide, nor would she want to, so she would just have to have a little bit of both of her favorite things with some of her favorite people on this beautiful night.

* * *

 ** **Chapter 7:** Bad Day/Parenting 101**

* * *

The house was quiet as one would expect with half of its occupants gone for the evening, Rick working a late shift and Carl spending the night at a friend's house; but even then, it was still a little too quiet as she worked on a brief in her office. She could usually count on hearing the television blaring or Judith happily carrying on a full conversation with her dolls from the next room over. In fact the signal for quitting time was usually when Judith meandered into her office and started poking around the in file cabinets and bookshelves before she'd inevitably climb into Michonne's lap and asked to help as she fiddled with the files on her desk.

By the time she finished her brief, however, there was still no Judith. She walked out of her office and into the empty living room, then headed up the stairs to peek into her room which was also empty. She felt her heart rate begin to pick up as she checked Carl's room and then the master bedroom with no luck.

"Judith?" she called out as she hurried back down the stairs.

She took another look in the living room and then her office, thinking that maybe they had missed one another when she went upstairs, but still nothing. She walked down the hall, passing the empty kitchen on her way to the sunroom that was never used unless they had a shortage of guest rooms when friends and family came to visit.

When she reached the threshold of the room, she let out a huge sigh of relief as she braced her hands against each side of the doorframe. There was Judith by the window, dwarfed by the oversized armchair she was sitting in, quietly reading and completely unaware of Michonne's presence. She gave herself a moment to let the small panic attack she was having from thinking she had lost her step-daughter subside so that she didn't ruin Judith's calm sanctuary.

"There you are," she said in almost a whisper as she tread quietly into the room. "I've been looking all over for you . Did you hear me calling?"

The little girl didn't look up from the book resting against her bent knees, instead she just flipped to the next page and shook her head _no_.

"Must be a good book."

"Cordor," she answered finally.

Michonne's brow knitted in confusion at her answer. The word, whether it was some new phrase the kids used these days or the title of a book, was new to her. As she reached the chair Judith was sitting in, she leaned over to glance at the pages of her book.

"Ah, _Corduroy_ ," she said aloud once she recognized the bear and his green overalls. "That _is_ a good one. Can I read with you?"

Judith looked up then scooted against the arm of the chair to clear space for her. Michonne squeezed into the snug spot and slid down until she was shoulder to shoulder with her. She expected Judith to engage her by reading out loud or asking to be read to, but she stayed quiet, a finger tracing under each line as her eyes scanned it before moving down to the next one. When she reached the end of the page, she'd glance up at Michonne asking for permission to turn which Michonne would grant with a soft _mmm hmm_ since she wasn't really reading at all. She was, instead, watching the reader who was uncharacteristically subdued. It was Friday evening, though, so perhaps Judith was just as spent after a long week at preschool as she was after a long week of work and having the kids. Rather than press, she just settled in, enjoying the quiet start to girls' night they were having. She'd have been content to stay there all night, if only her stomach hadn't started to rumble since all she'd had for lunch that day was an apple and one of the cheese sticks they kept in the house for the kids' lunches.

"I'm getting hungry," Michonne announced as she turned her body as much as she could to face Judith. "What are we going to do for dinner?"

"I'm not hungry," she answered, also unlike her since she was usually a bottomless pit when it came to food.

"You're not?" Michonne pouted, surprised and disappointed by the glum response. "But it's our night."

Judith lifted her eyes from the page again and looked at Michonne, her chest rising and falling with a small, but noticeable and weary sigh.

"We can have pizza."

She could tell Judith was indifferent, only suggesting it because she sensed it was what Michonne wanted since they always treated themselves to guilty pleasures like pizza on their rare nights alone together. It was a supposedly secret tradition that they always swore up and down they'd never let the guys in on; however, Michonne would always spill to Rick at the end of the night, and she'd overhear Judith bragging about it to Carl the following day.

"You feeling OK, Judes?" Michonne asked as she placed the back of her hand against Judith's forehead then followed up with a kiss to check for a fever.

She shrugged and leaned against Michonne's side, nuzzling her head against her chest as Michonne lifted her arm to allow her closer for a proper snuggle. She wasn't warm so far as she could tell, but it was still possible she was coming down with something since it seemed like she had a cold every month since she'd started school. She reached over for the throw blanket folded in the basket just beside the chair, and used her free hand to open it and spread it across their laps.

"We can just stay home tonight," she offered as she wrapped her arm a little tighter around Judith and scooted even further down in the chair so that she could rest her feet on the ottoman in front of her. "I'm sure we can find something to eat around here if you get hungry."

They stayed snuggled in their chair for a long while, Judith quietly reading one book after another as Michonne absently smoothed her hand over Judith's soft, golden curls and stared out the window watching the sunset across the open country sky.

"Is this my real house?"

Michonne blinked a few times, the small voice having awoken her from a little nap she hadn't realized she was taking in the quiet, now dim room. She looked down curiously at Judith who was staring up at her awaiting a response.

"Of course it is."

"What about mommy's house?"

"That's your house, too," Michonne said with a grin. "You're a lucky girl to have two houses with two of your very own bedrooms."

"Hunter says that I'm lying because you can only have one. He said I don't have a real one like him and his mom and dad."

"Oh Judes…" Michonne breathed out a small laugh through her nose and shook her head. Hunter's view of the world was so small and simple, as would be expected from a child who didn't know any other way of life aside from his own. "He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Emma and Lizzie said so, too."

And now it was three simple little children which made it harder to just dismiss, and Michonne could feel her heart starting to ache and drop into her stomach. Judith hadn't lashed out at these kids at school or come home crying about it. Instead, for the first time ever for Judith, they had called attention to the fact that the family life she knew and loved was the exception and not the rule. Michonne sat up straight in the chair and leaned down so that she was eye level with Judith before she put her hands on each of her chubby cheeks.

"You have a mommy and a daddy and a brother and a step-mommy who love you very much. We may not look like Hunter's family or live all together, but that doesn't mean it's not real. It's just different."

"But I don't want to be."

Those words and the sad, wide eyes staring up at her were enough to make Michonne's aching heart break. If she could say or do anything to change it, she would without question. Instead, she just gathered her into her arms and pulled her up into her lap.

"I know, sweetie."

xxx

Rick stepped into his dark, quiet house and slipped off his boots off at the door, then followed the only light on which led him to the kitchen. He stood at the entrance and paused for a moment to take in the unexpected sight before him. An open bottle of wine and an empty glass with a coating of light red on the sides sat out next to an open bag of sour cream and onion potato chips and a package of Oreo cookies. His eyes moved from the spread of food to his wife who was standing in front of their open refrigerator in her pajama bottoms and tank top, arms spread with one hand on each door handle of the freezer and fridge sides.

"You have a party and not invite me?"

He grinned as he watched her shake her head from behind, imaging there was some eye rolling going on that he wasn't privy to.

"There's a reason I tell you not to bring this junk in the house," she admonished like she did every time he came home from the grocery store with it.

"I think that's all the more reason to have it," he said as he pulled out a stool and grabbed a cookie, popping the whole thing into his mouth instead of wasting his time separating the cookie and cream like some would.

"Then I'll be sure to drag you out of bed with me when I wake up early tomorrow to run this off."

She swung both doors shut and turned to find him with his chin dipped and eyebrow arched in disapproval just as she expected.

"I'll pass on that," he mumbled through a mouthful of cookie. "So what's the occasion?"

"Stress eating," she said with a sigh as she started to walk around the island.

His playful expression was quickly replaced with one of worry, his eyes narrowed in on her face as she walked over and sat down next to him. She rested her forearms on the counter and leaned forward trying to round out the tense muscles in her upper back. He reached up and brushed her locks to one side, then rested his hand on her upper back, letting it curve around the base of her neck.

"You have a bad day?" he asked, leaning over the counter to meet her eyes.

"No," she answered as she shook her head. "Your daughter did. At school."

"What'd she do this time?" he groaned.

They got notes from her teacher at least once a week about her speaking out of turn in class or stubbornly not following directions, but he feared she may have crossed the line if she had Michonne looking so beat down and bingeing on junk food.

"Nothing."

"Oh…" He straightened up once he realized that she wasn't talking about bad behavior.

"Some of the kids were giving her a hard time about not having a _real_ home and family like they did," she explained quietly, closing her eyes as she felt the sting of the words she'd said.

Rick let out a deep breath and brought the hand that had been on Michonne's back up to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. While he was processing the situation, Michonne reached for the bottle of wine and empty glass, making a more than generous pour that nearly filled it to the top, then slid it between the two of the to share.

"Is she OK?" he asked, his eyes flicking upstairs to where he hoped she was sleeping soundly.

"She's so down, and it's breaking my heart. I tried to explain that our family is just as real as _Hunter's_ ," Michonne recounted, unable to keep the disdain out of her voice when she said his name, "but that doesn't mean much to a four year old. I was hoping you or Lori would know just what to say because I clearly didn't."

"Unfortunately we don't," he said with a sad grin. "I'm sure you did the same, if not better than either of us could have."

"Don't be so sure about that." Michonne dropped her forehead into her hands, ashamed of what she was about to admit. "My first instinct was to kick that kid's ass for hurting our girl…"

"That's always the first instinct until your level head prevails," Rick assured her with a dry chuckle. "I can still remember the first time something like this happened with Carl. You get them to yourselves for the first few years, teach them all you can and instill the values you want them to have. It's this safe, perfect world, and then you send them off to school…"

"Where they have to deal with little punks like _Hunter_ ," she finished as she lifted her head from her hands.

"Exactly," he said with a nod. "And it's hard as hell. Breaks your heart every time."

"Yeah," she breathed out. "It does."

She leaned to her side so that their arms were touching then rested her head against his shoulder. He heard her sigh as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and hugged her snuggly against his side. Whatever parental wisdom and perspective he'd gained over the past thirteen years had been earned through days like the one she had, and would continue to be. She may be new at this parenting thing, but she was a natural in his eyes.

"You OK?" he asked as he rested the side of his head against hers.

"No. But I'm happy you're finally home."

"Me too," he whispered as he turned to press a kiss against her temple. "You think she's still awake?"

"Probably."

"Then what do you say we go check on our girl?"

Michonne lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up at him with an actual grin as she nodded in agreement with his plan. Whether she was awake or not, they'd pick her up on their way to bed because when one of them was hurting, they all were, so they would all be there for each other.

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Welcome Home**

* * *

"Rick?"

Michonne dropped her luggage in the foyer just to the side of the front door then shrugged her wool camel coat off of her shoulders and hung it on the coat rack to her right. She stepped out of her black pumps, and used her bare foot to slide them against the wall then proceeded to walk into her darkened living room and down the hall, the antique pine floors creaking under her feet with each step. She peeked into the kitchen with no luck, then headed for the stairs.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, she could hear music coming from upstairs, growing louder as she climbed the steps and neared their bedroom, giving her an idea as to where he was and why he wasn't answering her.

"Babe?" she called out softly as she walked into their room.

The lights were on and his boots were on the floor in front of his dresser. The alarm clock on her nightstand was blaring some country song with lyrics about Tennessee whiskey that sounded vaguely familiar. The door to their ensuite bathroom was ajar, and the small strip of the bathroom mirror she could see was still fogged up, letting her know that he had just showered.

She made her way to their walk-in closet and smiled as she came to the threshold. She'd finally found him standing with his back to her, completely oblivious to her presence, as he flipped through the shirts hanging in front of him. His toned back was bare, but he was dressed from the waist-down in a pair of dark denim jeans that slung low on his hips.

She quietly walked up behind him and slid her arms around him while she pressed her lips to the nape of his neck then raised herself onto her tiptoes, and rested her chin on his right shoulder.

"It's just me," she whispered into his ear. She left another kiss in the crook of his neck before lowering her heels back to the floor and resting her cheek against his back as she tightened her arms around him.

"I'd hope so," he said in that dry, raspy southern drawl she'd missed so much. "I didn't expect you for another hour or so."

He covered her hands with his then lifted her left hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss over her bent fingers before lowering them to back to the spot where they'd been resting on his stomach just above the the waistband of his jeans.

"My flight landed early, my bag was the first one off the belt, and I beat the rush hour traffic coming out of Atlanta," she explained.

"That's a good day," he agreed as he pulled a hand away to finish skimming through his rack of clothes.

"It is. I was hoping to get back in time to see Carl and Judith. I brought back a few souvenirs for them."

"You just missed 'em. Lori picked 'em up about twenty minutes ago." He plucked a navy blue and grey plaid shirt from the rack then turned in her arms to face her. "Welcome home, by the way," he whispered sweetly as he placed a kiss on her forehead. "I missed you."

"Oh my god," she gasped as she pulled away, arching her back to get a better look at him as she kept her arms wrapped around his waist.

Rick was never one to be clean shaven, always vacillating between a 5 o'clock shadow and what she fondly referred to as his 11 o'clock shadow, for the times he let his typically light stubble grow into a heavy scruff. The man standing before her, though, looked as if he'd been roaming the backwoods of Georgia or holed up high in the Appalachians while she'd been away on business for the past two weeks. The lower half of his face was covered by a thick layer of coarse, wiry brown and grey hairs that coalesced into more than just scruff. It was a true beard, and a particularly unruly one at that.

He saw the look on her face, and grinned self-consciously as he rubbed his hand over the beard.

"Yeah, you caught me before I had a chance to trim it," he said as he stepped out of her arms and tossed his clean shirt on their bed on his way toward the bathroom. "I figured we'd go out to dinner tonight."

"No, you don't have...we don't have to do that," she stammered. He stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, turned around, and leaned against the doorframe, looking at her curiously. "Since I haven't been home, I don't mind staying in," she explained.

"We don't really have any food in the house."

"Nothing?" she asked incredulously because there was always _something_. They lived several miles outside of town in rural King county, and shared custody of his children with his ex-wife, so they always kept their pantry and freezer stocked.

"Well, there's half a pepperoni pizza leftover from the kids' dinner last night…"

"Works for me," she said easily. He let out a short laugh at her vision for date night and relented.

"Ok…" he said, shaking his head as he walked past her to pick his shirt up off of the bed and hang it back up in the closet. He walked over to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a brown t-shirt. He threw it on then nodded his head toward the door. "You ready?" he asked, prompting her into motion. Once she reached his side, he placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her out of the room and down the stairs, smiling at the sight of her still dressed in her charcoal grey sheath dress, fresh off of two weeks in Boston, and about to eat a very fancy dinner of leftover pizza.

Once they reached the kitchen, he motioned for her to take a seat on the bar stool, then he walked around the large marble-topped island and into the kitchen where he turned on the oven to preheat it. He went into the fridge, and pulled out the pizza box and set it on the counter then bent down to open the wine cooler, and resurfaced with a bottle of red that he held up for her approval.

She nodded wordlessly as she watched him move around the kitchen, unable to take her eyes off of him since she'd come home. This was her Rick, she told herself. He had the same curly hair, although it was overdue for a trim; those unmistakable blue eyes; and those were his clothes that he wore so effortlessly well. The beard, however, was throwing her off because it had somehow transformed him. It was making her feel something, though, she wasn't sure what that was yet.

He tossed the pizza on a baking sheet and threw it in the oven then grabbed a wine key, two glasses, and the bottle. He came around the island to join her, scooting his stool in a little closer to hers as he settled in.

"So how did the mediation turn out?" he asked as he began opening the bottle.

"Oh...it almost didn't. The one party, um…" She trailed off, finding herself distracted as she took in his bearded profile up close. "They were stuck on this one term, and um...they kept coming back to it, and uh…" She shook her head, exasperated with her inability to form a coherent thought. "Sorry," she said as she accepted the glass of wine her handed to her.

"You OK?" He knew she'd had a long day of work with travel on top of it, so he figured she was just tired.

"Yeah," she assured him as she took a sip.

"Then what's going on?" he asked as he leaned in closer to her.

She tilted her head as she studied his face, deciding to address the thing that was actually distracting her.

"Do you do this every time I'm out of town?" she asked as she motioned toward his beard.

"Maybe…" he said with a growing smirk, realizing that perhaps her distracted behavior wasn't due to tiredness at all, but because she was a bit flustered by his appearance. "Why? You like it?" he teased in a low drawl as he leaned in even closer to her.

"I asked you a question," she said pointedly as she tried to stifle a grin.

She placed her hands on his chest and turned her head to the side to create a little more distance as he invaded her personal space, but her attempt was useless. He brushed her locks to the side and pressed a kiss high on her neck, just behind her ear, then worked his way down leaving a trail of light kisses along her jawline, his beard tickling her as he did.

"You like it," he whispered against her cheek, hovering there for a moment as she turned her head to face him. She didn't answer; instead, she moved her hands up his chest and to his bearded cheeks and pulled him in for a real kiss.

xxx

The sudden, sharp beeping of the alarm clock startled her from her sleep, but before she could attend to it, he reached his out his arm to silence it, then wrapped it around her again. He pulled her closer so that there was no space between her naked backside and the front of his body, then lifted his head just over her shoulder to plant a kiss against her cheek. The warmth of his body against hers was so pleasant that it outweighed the sensation of his beard scratching against her face and shoulder.

"Mmm," she groaned sleepily, not wanting to open her eyes and face the day. "What time is it?"

"Five-thirty. I've gotta get up," he mumbled into her shoulder, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep.

"Yeah, you should go before my husband sees you…"

"Oh yeah?" he challenged as he pulled his face back slightly as he started to smirk.

"Yeah," she said, feeling quite pleased with herself. "He's a sheriff, you know…"

"Is that right?" he asked, sounding less than impressed. He could feel her nodding her head against his chest. "Well, I'm not worried about him."

"You should be," she warned.

He grunted with indifference then pressed final kiss against her shoulder and secured the comforter snugly around her before rolling onto his other side to get out of bed. She rolled onto her side, as well, in time to see the bearded man about to enter the bathroom.

"I'd like to see you again, though," she called after him. He stopped at the sound of her voice, and glanced over his shoulder at her, laughing quietly to himself and shaking his head before he went on and shut the door behind him. She smiled to herself as she closed her eyes to go back to sleep, drifting off to the faint hum of his electric razor in the background.


End file.
